Work Hard
I am a hard worker. I’ve been told that all of my life…….”you are like your Grandfather”. Gramps ran an 80 acre farm, producing all the food we ate, money for clothing, cars etc. I never saw him relax except at the end of the day, watching channel 3 farm news. It was an amazing life, rich with natural beauty, sweat produced results and a firm sense of satisfaction with many jobs done well.
Why? To what end does that bring me? I have inherited, through the gene pool and most likely grace, this work ethic that propels me to work and work hard. I don’t have a farm to funnel that energy into anymore and I spin my wheels in sometimes fruitless activities that at least exhaust me enough so that I feel I deserve some rest.
At the end of the day I cannot relax unless I look back and see if I have done enough to rest.
Maybe I need a farm.
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I loved this reminder of the farm. I grew up in SW Iowa and my grandparents had farms. The time I spent on them was wonderful. At night it was a good tired. Through the years, sometimes it seems like the things I work on leave my frustrated and exhausted. Not so, when I’m working in my garden and yard. My grandparents gave me this gift of loving nature and growing things. My freezer is full this year. I had a bumper crop. I have learned that when I am tempted to judge, or feel anger, I just go out and “pull the weeds in my own backyard”. Then I don’t look at everyone else’s weeds. I think I need a farm too.