Monday, July 9, 2012


It is not too uncommon in my daily dose of life for me to be posed with what would seem to most people like a simple question -

"Hi Paul! So, what are you up to nowadays?"

What am I up to nowadays? Hmmm.... how do I say this? Should I try and make this fluid and elagant... maybe I can make this sound a bit more professional than last time... maybe I should...

"Oh yes, hi Joe! I'm working on our family farm."
 (Alas -- it never comes out elegant or professional... at least not yet...)

"Oh, still on the farm? Are you taking any college classes yet?"

"Nope... not yet."

"Oh... so....... umm.... I see... well, did you hear about the new macbook pro on the market...?" --- the conversation usually meanders off at this point...

Why? Why is it that there is a common belief that college is the only road to success? Hmmmm... it is a good question actually.

Education. I believe in education. I love education. In fact college may actually come one of these days... maybe. :) (Don't take me wrong here... you might understand in a minute or two)

Recently a friend shared with me some powerful short speeches on our educational system. Outside of my own dear family I don't think I have ever heard such good expositions on the subject (at least in a secular light).

If you have a moment you might enjoy listening to Sir Ken Robinson address the topic:

Whose dreams are spread under your feet? Tread softly....

Friday, July 6, 2012

Thirsty for Rain

Clouds billow, thunder rolls... and the rain continues to mock us. Two light sprinkles - about as much as a morning's dew.


They say that in a couple weeks the tree leaves will start turning as brown as the grass is... and I think I just might believe them considering I've already started to see some traces. Autumn in July? It's not exactly what every farmer dreams of. Especially not when it means blistering heat records and no water...

We are thankful to be able to gravity feed our fields from our large pond, but others are not so blessed. If it weren't for our beautiful spring that pumps out over 30 gallons a minute I don't know but that our corn and sweet potatoes might be brown too. We are blessed to have water.


His voice hangs still in the blistering heat -

"Our culture has become so desensitized. I mean I used to be able to watch someone die and not even blink."

My friend continues to swish the collinear hoe through the dusty ground that surrounds our precious sweet potatoes and my heart gulps. Death. Desensitized to death...

He keeps on talking now, and I try to listen as my heart tries to understand.

"I used to carry other people's pain... but it became too painful and I stopped feeling altogether..."

Hearts that are dry... so dry. Dry like the dust under my feet. My friend has been there... and come through to life. Could it be that the opposite of love is simply the lack of it? Hearts so cold and dry... that even natural affection has melted away into complete blackness and solitude?

We move on while the blazing sun continues to beat down on our straw hats and the dust continues to puff under our hoes.


They say that it will need to rain oodles of bunches to be caught up to what would be considered normal. That's because the dust is so dry that water no longer penetrates... at least not easily.

And perhaps dry hearts need lots of water too... maybe even oodles and bunches.

Father, your people are thirsty - please send some rain...

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