I haven’t posted to Tune My Heart in ages, somewhere in the neighborhood of 8 months. What happened? Did I just succumb to the old worn-out-on-blogging bug? Not exactly.
Around August 1 of last year, my family and I moved from a lovely house in Raytown, Missouri–Yes, there are lovely houses in Raytown–to a semi-blighted parcel of land just outside Bates City, Missouri (population 255). Think of Oliver Wendell Douglas moving to Hooterville and you get the picture. Since that time, I’ve been driving forty miles each way to school and then hurrying home to attend to matters on the farm. We endured an experiment in getting our Internet connection via a cell card. That was a failed experiment, I might add, as we achieved speeds from ATT that NetZero would find humorous.
When we arrived here, we had a derelict mobile home to demolish and remove, a major problem with our water supply, a serious infestation of wasps, and a thousand other tasks to attack. By the time winter rolled around, I had gotten thoroughly out of the habit of blogging.
One evening, probably back in October or so, I remember walking outside after a long day of physical work. I’d been hard at it with my chain saw, trying to build up a supply of firewood. As night settled on the hill outside my house, I stood there, looking off into the gathering dark for a moment and considering the jobs I had left to do. “I have enough work to last me until . . . ” I said to myself. I nearly said, “until December,” but I stopped short, smiling. “I have enough work to last me forever.”
My domain consists of sixty acres, mostly in scraggly timber. I could spend the rest of my life, eight hours a day, cleaning up woodlands, pulling vines, cutting downed trees, thinning the interlopers to give the desireable trees a better life, and generally being a steward of the forest. I could spend the next ten years just collecting rocks! My work will never end, and I love it.
God did not create us to be idle. He didn’t create us to play endless rounds of golf or watch TV all day. I am so richly blessed in having a profession that I mostly enjoy, outlets for my gift of writing, and sixty acres of home to toil over, trying to leave all of them in better shape when I’m done than when I began.