Dear TSJ Friends,
(Please remember to click on the green header for easiest reading.)
In one of my morning “meet-ups” with God recently I was highly inspired by reflections on an ancient biblical voice (Habakkuk) that sounded so up to date it was rather jolting.
The lasting value of story always amazes me. And Habakkuk caused me to vividly picture desolation when I reflect on the fields of our farm.
In fact, as I age and reflect on our current events I realize there is nothing all that new about human behaviors and longings. Disasters have always happened. Peoples’ dreams have been interrupted, even shattered. We long for answers. And we want to escape our griefs and unwanted change.
So who was this Habakkuk guy I am writing about? One of my resources, a readable and artistically written book by Stephen Miller* on biblical history, tells us this:
“Habakkuk is a prophet living in the southern Jewish nation of Judah [who is] troubled by all the sin he sees: violence, destruction, injustice in the courts and wicked people outnumbering the righteous” (p. 270-). And Habakkuk’s main message is :
“Trust God in the hardest times, even when it looks like God is unfairly or callously doing nothing while good people suffer.” (p.271)
Does this sound familiar?
Please read on and picture the descriptions Habakkuk writes for us.
“Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines,
Though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food
Though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls,
Yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
I will be joyful in God my Savior.
The sovereign LORD is my strength;
He makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
he enables me to go on the heights.” Habakkuk 3:17-19 (NIV)
I realize this version is a bit different from what many of us have learned in the King James but it is one I can relate to with a “felt knowing” from having been brought up a farm – dad’s dream.
So I want to tell you a story about why I can relate to Habakkuk’s descriptions.
DAD’S DREAM
(A Birthday Reflection)
Yes, one hundred and one years ago yesterday Dad was born. I think he and Habakkuk had some things in common. He left a legacy of love and faith despite hardships. Each year his birthday stirs up memories. Most of you can relate to that.
Tomorrow also marks the same birthday for Mom. They were the same age and from nearby towns but never met each other until they met at Cornell University where dad attended the Agricultural School and mom majored in Latin and French. They met on a “blind date.” And they were in this business dream together for better and for worse. They were in love.
Dad was born the son of a preacher and an elementary school teacher. And he was in her class. He often told of how she was strictest with him because of being her son. He admired his mother very much. His father he said was not as ambitious as his mother, as he was a laid back preacher who often did not finish projects he started.
Both of his parents died when he was young and yet old enough to become responsible for his younger siblings. His mother with cancer and his father with a heart attack as I remember the story.
This is the essence of what I know. I now wish I knew more.
Dad was definitely not born with a laid back disposition! He was driven, active, committed and perfectionistic. He was a self-starter and disciplined. Did I say driven? He ran most everywhere and seldom stopped.
But his ambitious energy was also fueled by a profound faith in God and God’s rightful place of first in his life.
For the life of me I do not know how dad’s dream of being a farmer got started. But apparently he always wanted to own and operate a farm. And despite often being “between a rock and a hard place” financially in growing the farm, he absolutely lived what Habakkuk proclaimed. “The sovereign LORD God was [his] strength.” This was also matched with his own determination and love for land and family.
When I was reading Habakkuk’s description of disaster I found myself in wonder. With the devastations our farmers are experiencing in this pandemic it seemed to take on new meaning.
I wonder … .what if the acres and acres of crops dad and my brothers prepared and planted bore no fruit and the fields produced no food at all?
I wonder ….what if the animals (in our case chicken, cows and various other animals from time to time) were not in the stalls or pens? Empty pens and stalls would be eerie.
(When I read this our sheep muse Solomon shuddered aloud- or at least I imagined that. )
I wonder … what if the silos were empty of grain and food for the animals? And what if all those fields that we were used to seeing flourish with corn, wheat, beans and garden vegetables were instead barren?
How would we have survived? How would dad have responded?
Even without things ever being quite that bad, as one of the older children I 
remember often feeling sad when I listened to him telling mom about a cow getting a disease or the weather ruining a crop of hay etc. I remember well seeing him look weary and bedraggled as he would put his busy farm hands on his forehead and run the fingers through his hair.
I remember very well one Thanksgiving that I did not even ask him for the twenty-five cents I needed to get the school’s annual thanksgiving lunch in the cafeteria. I did not want to burden him. I took my peanut butter sandwich instead.
But even if dad and mom’s story had been equal to Habakkuk’s cry – and I know it often felt that way to them – as they grew the farm and family – I “know” the next sentence of Habakkuk’s reflection would remain true:
“Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The sovereign LORD is my strength.”
I know that because he lived that. I know that because on the days when the only dry day for haying was on the Lord’s Day (Sunday for us), dad went to church and took the day to rest and be with family while the tractors could be heard on the neighboring fields. And we youngsters took note as children do.
I know that because he prayed. There were some very difficult times and challenges and a couple of of those times I happened to see his bedroom door slightly ajar and glimpsed him on his knees by the bed.
And dad was no shrinking violet. He was not passive. But he was fair and he was in love with God and pretty darn in love with people.
And at the height of his farming venture, a disaster struck him.
DAD’S CRISIS:
He was in his late thirties when he had a major heart attack. He was taken to the hospital and family members were called “just in case.” He had a major heart attack before heart surgeries had become so refined. The family, our church friends and others prayed for him.
Dad bounced back. Or let’s say he was able to come home. Only to face one sad fact. The doctor said he needed to get out of farming. His dream was shattered. His veins flowed warmly with his love for farming.
The only time I ever saw him cry was when he got home from the hospital and he looked out the bedroom windows only to see the neighbors gathered to get the hay in. Mom raised the windows as they stopped by to cheer him on.
This was an unwanted change and a period of griefs to be faced.
He persevered and followed doctor’s orders to go on a strict diet. He was a farmer remember! Farm food is not cholesterol free and he loved ice cream! But he continued to face his “new normal” pretty well for a future that would look different. He found comfort and peace in the love of friends who encouraged him and confidence in the God he worshipped.
Like Habakkuk who says “He makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to go on the heights,” so did dad.
Dad made it through sure footed like a deer. He went to grad school to get a master’s degree in science and accepted a high school teaching position. He loved earth sciences.
So his feet took him to high places with a steady move toward a new career.
He made the best of his personal disasters and left a legacy of love and faith.
On May 10th 1971 dad died of a heart attack at 52 while he was on a ladder doing some work in the basement. My younger siblings were still living home and with him. The twins graduated from high school a few weeks later. My youngest brother was left alone without that coveted time with dad when his siblings were off to college.
Crises are personal and family and community affairs. We sure know that these days!
Finally, I want to share that just ten days previous to his death I had just had a baby (Joe) and our one year old (Tim) took his first step for “grampy” just three days before dad went to heaven while we were celebrating our parents’ 52nd birthdays.
I got to see that last boyish grin of happiness flash across my dad’s face on that day.
Last memories often become lasting memories.
When we had calling hours the police had to direct traffic for several hours in the rain! Dad made a difference in many lives. We all do. We too are creating memories within the minds of our children and communities.
Solomon has been pretty reflective lately. The whole idea of sheep not being in their pens got to him. But then he stopped and said, “Wait! I am loved and alive! And we have our Chief Shepherd too.”
Yes, Solomon, you are loved and alive. So let’s go play in the pastures (as long as we stay six feet apart.)
Blessings,
Margie
Stephen Miller The Complete Guide to the Bible ECPA 2007
