Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Shadows

What lies in the unknown?

                                      Psalms 91:1-2

                   He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
                      will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
                   I will say of the Lord,
                       "He is my refuge and my fortress.
                            My God in whom I trust."

Ah, the farm.  It was a refuge. Sitting on the hill with my dog peering into the pasture as it wound its way to the river I watched nothing and for a moment had no cares.  School was over and summer had yet to be planned.  The grass, flowers and hay still smelled new.  Andy, my dog, was glad I was home and we stretched out in the sun to dream impossible dreams.  My memories of the farm also included a typical farm house with a breezeway and an attached garage.  On the corner of the house hung a light. Back behind the garage, to the southwest, we had a little kennel where I would put my dog at night.

If you picture this right you will see the darkness of a country evening settle in and engulf our farm.  This yard light, on the corner of the house could only stretch itself so far around the edge of the garage.  The kennel would disappear into incredible darkness. Who knows what kind of monsters were making their way up from the river.  When I put my dog in the kennel at night the shadows of the unknown were terrifying.

However, not all shadowy memories were so miserable.  Although the Minnesota State Fair had scary times of it's own, I do remember a comforting shadow.  My father was a tall stately gentleman.  His shadow, to me as a young kid at the fair, not only protected me from the hot sun but made me feel secure from the lurking's of the fair.  My dad knew what to do and where to go, I stayed close.

What shadows do I seek?  Do I put myself in shadows that terrify....or, do I long to stand in the comfort of the shadow of the Almighty?

4 comments:

  1. I have such great memories of your family farm and of your parents, Jim. Your parents' home was the last place we stayed before moving from Watertown; I thought back to that often in California.

    If the farm has been nostalgic to me over the years, I can only imagine how much more it would be to you.

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    1. I drive out that way often when I go to see my mom. The memories are still there but the ol' farm just isn't what it use to be. Time has a way of doing that to everything I guess. Good to hear from you.

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  3. Yes, it does! That's how it was for me last time we visited Watertown and our old house. Time does not stand still.

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