CONTEMPLATION

     I have been giving the politics fits for a while and I am setting here pondering the view out my windows.  I can see over 20 miles down into the Gypsum Hills from our place.  One of my acquaintances put a question out on her Facebook today and has drawn a lot of attention.  It has also gotten a lot of answers.  HAVE YOU EVER SEEN A MIRACLE?
      Of course I have seen miracles everyday and I replied that my time on the Rescue Squad, Ambulance, and Fire engine I witnessed many miracles.  I have seen so many times when someone should have died they came thru without a scratch.  Other times there was so little damage you wondered why anyone died but they did.
      This time of year is a season of miracles that I never tire of.  Not only the cooler weather and the wildlife but also the great hope and faith that the farmer has.  I learned how to farm from my Grandpa Becker and that is where I learned to plant a straight row.  Crooked rows would not do.  I remember riding with him and seeing the neighbors plantings and commenting on the inattention to detail (Carl was real blunt).  Farming was not a casual thing, for him it was his livelihood and pride of doing good work.
      I did almost every job on the farm while growing up but the drill and planter were not allowed.  Later on when I farmed for a friend of mine I drilled wheat and it was as if I had done it all my life.  The lessons must have taken hold.  Maybe plowing a straight headland or mowing hay instilled the skills.
      One of my proudest days was when I swathed some alfalfa for a friend while he took a dinner break, (dinner is at noon in the country, for all you city dudes), when he came back he complimented me by saying he could never swath that straight.  I just said thanks but if I didn't run straight Carl Becker would be mighty disgusted.
      I miss the miles of drilling with that 706 Farmall and the 20 hole drill in the fall.  The neighbors would come in with big folding drills or double drill hitches and try to plant fast.  The steady pace of drilling with that red rig always seemed to be not far behind.  You don't rush planting.  I miss the deer coming out and walking right up to the tractor and stepping aside when passing.  That rig did not spook them like the neigbors rigs did.
     The miracle of putting seed in the ground and even with no moisture in a few days green fragile wheat appears.  I watched last week the wheat going in the ground and it is up.  How a tender little plant can survive is a miracle.  I am astounded at those who say they have never seen a miracle.  I don't understand what kind of unhappy life they must live.
       Grampa always said that you had to kill wheat three times before putting it in the bin.  He also said God always lets it rain ten minutes before it is too late.
      For all the storm clouds on the horizon for this country and the worry that is put in about it's future, look at the wheat growing.  Things are still in his hands and miracles abound if you choose to see them.