The Farmer’s Christmas Wish...

 

Dear Readers,

It was another chilly December morning as I wandered through the misty fields of my farm. Rows of kale, carrots, and spinach shimmered under the dew, their leaves vibrant and full of life. The air smelled of damp soil and fresh growth a sign of God’s unceasing provision, even in times of solitude.

I loved this farm. It was my sanctuary, the place where I poured my heart and soul into nurturing life. But as I examined the rows of vegetables destined for schools, hospitals, and local charities, my heart felt heavy. Christmas was approaching, and it would be another year alone, far from the laughter of my children, who had once loved running barefoot through these fields.

I sighed and wiped a tear that dared escape my eye. my weathered hands, calloused from years of farming, gripped the wooden fence as I whispered, “Jesus, I miss them so much.”

The thought of another Christmas without my children felt unbearable. I remembered the joy on their faces as they decorated the tree, their giggles as they attempted to catch snowflakes on their tongues, and the warmth of their hugs on cold winter nights. Those memories felt like yesterday, yet they were a lifetime ago.

As I reached the edge of the farm, I decided to pray. I wasn’t a man to hide my feelings from God, and today was no different.

“Jesus,” I began, my voice shaky, “I know You’ve seen my tears, my struggles. I know You’ve been with me every step of the way. But today, could You come to sit with me? Walk with me through this farm? Just for a while, so I don’t feel so alone?”

It was a simple request, made with a heart both broken and hopeful.

I continued my walk, inspecting the ripe tomatoes and checking the irrigation system. Out of nowhere, I heard a soft chuckle. Startled, I turned to see a man standing by the barn. The man had kind eyes, a warm smile, and a presence that seemed to light up the gray morning. He wore simple clothes jeans and a flannel shirt and held two steaming cups of coffee.

“Mind if I join you?” the man asked, holding out one of the cups.

I blinked, unsure whether I was dreaming. But the man’s smile felt familiar, almost divine. I nodded slowly and took the coffee.

“Nice farm you’ve got here,” the man said, walking alongside me. “You’ve done a good job with it.”

“Thanks,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s hard work, but it keeps me going.”

“I know,” the man said. “You’ve poured your heart into this place. Just like you’ve poured your heart into your family.”

I stopped in my tracks. “You… you know about my family?”

The man nodded. “Of course. I’ve been there with you through all the good times, the heartbreak, the moments you thought you couldn’t go on. You’ve been stronger than you realize, Jacob.”

As they walked, the man listened intently as I poured out my feelings. I spoke about my children how much I loved them, how much I missed them, and how I prayed for them every day. I spoke about the loneliness that crept in during the quiet evenings and the guilt that weighed on me, even though I knew I had done my best.

The man didn’t interrupt. He just listened, his eyes filled with compassion. And when I finished, the man placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

“You’ve never been alone, Jacob,” he said softly. “Even in your darkest moments, I’ve been right here. And your prayers for your children? They don’t go unheard. I’m with them too, just as I’m with you.”

I felt a warmth spread through my chest a feeling I hadn’t experienced in years. For the first time in a long time, I felt truly seen, truly understood.

After their walk, they sat together on a hay bale by the barn, sipping their coffee. The man cracked a few jokes about the chickens that had taken over my porch, making me laugh for the first time in weeks.

“Those chickens,” I chuckled, “they act like they own the place. I caught one trying to roost in my boots last night.”

The man grinned. “Sounds like they’re just trying to keep your feet warm.”

I shook my head, laughing. “If only they could pay rent.”

As the sun began to break through the clouds, casting a golden glow over the farm, the man stood. “I’ve got to go now,” he said, his voice gentle.

“Will I see you again?” I asked a hint of desperation in my voice.

The man smiled. “I’m always here, Jacob. Every prayer, every tear, every laugh you’ll find me in all of it. And when you feel lonely, just remember: you’re never truly alone.”

With that, the man turned and walked away, disappearing into the sunlight.

I sat there for a while, the coffee cup still warm in my hands. The sadness hadn’t completely vanished, but it was now accompanied by a quiet peace. I stood and walked back to the fields, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

Christmas was near, and while it wouldn’t be the same without my children, I knew I wasn’t alone. Jesus had walked with me today, just as He always had. And that was enough to keep me going.

Reflection

This story is a testament to the enduring strength of the human spirit and the healing power of faith. My journey reminds us that even in our darkest moments, we are never truly alone. my conversation with Jesus highlights the profound beauty of prayer not as a mere ritual, but as an intimate dialogue with a loving companion who understands our struggles and celebrates our joys.

The tale also underscores the bittersweet nature of Christmas for those separated from their loved ones. While the season may amplify feelings of loss and longing, it also offers a chance to find solace in faith and the simple joys of life. my laughter, sparked by an unexpected moment of humor, is a reminder that even amidst sorrow, light can seep through.

As we navigate our own journeys, may we remember our resilience and take comfort in the knowledge that love whether from our family or from a divine presence is always with us, guiding us through the seasons of life.

God Bless Us All…

Jacob M