Tuesday, June 24, 2008

"Wheat Field Memories"

When I got home from work tonight I opened the blinds so that I could watch the birds at the bird feeders in my back yard. I saw a few birds, but the most surprising thing was--I saw something that made me think back to wheat harvest time on our farm.

We usually tried to cut wheat around Memorial Day, but it was most often early in June when the wheat was ripe for harvesting. Daddy, Grandpa Wallace, and Uncle Victor would rotate jobs in the wheat field: one would run the combine, one would drive a truck to the grain elevator, and one would stay with a truck in the field awaiting the next time the combine bin was full and ready to dump a load of wheat. Mom, Grandma Dovie, and I would share the work of preparing food for all the harvest hands, driving to get parts for a broken-down truck or combine, driving a truck to the elevator when they were short-handed, etc.

Harvesting wheat was hot, dirty work since it was in the days when neither a combine or a truck had an air conditioner. Daddy wore goggles to keep wheat chaff, straw, bugs, etc. out of his eyes. When he'd take his goggles off, he very often looked like a little racoon-in-reverse because his face was so dark with dirt, but he had white places where his goggles had been around his eyes.

I was always glad to see Daddy when he stopped to dump the wheat and get a drink of water. I'd run up to him and give him a big hug even if he was covered with dirt from head to toe. Very often there was the smell of grease on his hands and clothing because of all the work that had to be done on the old farm equipment to keep it running. All of that mixed with old-fashioned sweat made for a rustic blend of a scent I'll call "farm aftershave." I didn't care what he smelled like when I hugged him--he was my Daddy!

Sometimes Daddy would go to the small toolbox built in to the combine and I'd stand at his side in eager anticipation. Now why would that be something a child would anticipate with eagerness? Who'd get excited about seeing a greasy wrench, grimy pliers, or a dirty hammer? The reason for anticipation was not the tools that were in the toolbox, but what was sitting on top of the tools.

Daddy would barely open the toolbox with one hand and reach gingerly inside with his other hand. I'd be peering inside the box as best I could in order to see what treasure Daddy was going to pull out, all-the-while knowing what it was going to be. I wanted to jump up and down with excitement, but if I did it might scare away what was bound to be something that could move faster than me and rapidly disappear into the wheat field.

S-l-o-w-l-y Daddy would pull out the brown and white package and place it carefully in my outstretched, closely-cupped hands. I could feel the racing heartbeat against my palms and its fur was as soft as the velvet on one of my bedroom pillows. It's whiskers tickled my fingers and it's long ears twitched in the sunlight, showing how pink they were on the inside. Daddy couldn't pull a rabbit out of a hat like a magician, but he certainly could pull a young cotton-tail bunny out of the toolbox on the combine. I couldn't have been more thrilled to receive that bunny than if Daddy had pulled out a new bicycle from the toolbox. The bunny was mine to take to the house and take care of for a few days before Daddy and Momma would "help" me decide that I'd better let it go back home to its parents in the wheat field.

Yes--the surprise in my back yard tonight was a young rabbit, much too big to fit in a combine toolbox though. The only other time I have seen a rabbit in or near my yard was the day I came to look at this house when it was on the market, and that was in August 2007.

For several minutes I took pictures through my east living room window because I knew if I opened the door even a little that it would hop away. It stayed quite a while eating grass, stretching out in the dirt, and even closing its eyes for a few moments to take a nap.

I was sad to see it hop off, much like I was as a child when I returned my harvest bunny to the wheat field. However, the rabbit tonight came back for another wallow in the dirt and another nibble of grass. Maybe it knew that it was stirring up memories from deep within me and that I needed to be nostalgic a while longer.

My Grandpa Broyles was a rabbit ya know. But then, that's another story for another time.

Thanks for reading and have a "hoppy" evening! =o)
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© 06-24-08 by Janet F. Broyles
This story is protected by copyright laws and may not be reprinted or posted to a site without permission from Janet F. Broyles. All readers are welcome to forward the devotional to a friend or link to it. If you would like to seek permission to reprint the devotional in full, please leave a message for me here.
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Wednesday, June 18, 2008

"The Potter"

"The Potter"
by Janet Faye Broyles

Here’s my broken life, Lord—broken like a cup;
To my loving Father now I lift it up.
Jesus, You’re The Potter—I am just the clay;
You can make or break me—for I’ve no right to say.
Just hold me in Your Hands, Lord,
Mold me with Your Love;
I trust You completely, Potter of Great Love.

In my daily life, Lord, with Your Wisdom guide,
Make my life more pure, Lord, wash me from inside.
Jesus, You’re The Potter—I am just the clay;
You can make or break me—for I’ve no right to say.
Please hold me in Your Hands, Lord,
Mold me with Your Love;
I trust You completely, Potter of Great Love.

Written while I was living in Ft. Smith, Arkansas (sometime between 1983-1991) and going through a season or two of deep trials that left me broken, yet protected in the hands of my Lord Jesus.
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© 1983 by Janet F. Broyles
This poem is protected by copyright laws and may not be reprinted or posted to a site without permission from Janet F. Broyles. All readers are welcome to forward the devotional to a friend or link to it. If you would like to seek permission to reprint the devotional in full, please leave a message for me here.
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Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Habits

Here's a great quote I read today:

"Prayer is a habit. Worship is a habit. Kindness is a habit. And if you want to please God, you’d better make sure that these habits are your habits." Marie T. Freeman

What do our habits say about us to God? To others?

Thursday, June 12, 2008

"Making Memories for Father's Day"

This Sunday, June 15, is Father's Day. Memories are ready to be made every day, but especially around Father's Day. Don't miss out on making those memories no matter where you are or what you're doing. Even doing a chore for and with your Dad can turn out to be one of your favorite memories that you'll cherish for years to come. Here are some of my memories of Father's Day 2005.

I had the best Daddy any girl could ever want, dream about, or ask God for. He went to heaven August 8, 2005. His last Father's Day was one in which he made a valiant effort to celebrate even though his body was already extremely weak from stage 4 colon cancer that had metastasized to his gall bladder, liver, adrenal glands, lungs, bones, etc.

On the Saturday before Father's Day 2005, Daddy sat in a lawn chair in the garage and tried to hand-wax and polish his Ford F150 supercab navy-blue pickup. Mom and I quickly volunteered to help him once we discovered where he was and what he was doing. Since Mom and I are both "fairly short" it was pretty funny for us to be seen climbing all around on Daddy's pickup trying to reach the top of the cab and get the hood waxed and polished all the way up to the windshield. We eventually had to get a stepstool to complete the job, but Daddy had fun supervising "his girls" who were doing their very best to do a job worthy of his "stamp of approval."

Daddy, Mom and I went to Church that Sunday of Father's Day 2005 and then we took Daddy to eat catfish for lunch. He used to love to go fishing with his brother, Bob, and a meal of catfish was one of his favorites. Daddy was so worn out, weak, and tired that he could hardly sit at the table to eat and he had no appetite--but he wanted to go out to lunch after Church and be with his family on Father's Day. That's a special memory that will linger in my heart, mind, and soul for the rest of my life. For a long time after Daddy died it was difficult for me to even drive by the catfish restaurant without crying. God heals broken hearts though and now I cherish the memory and have released the grief to Him.

Sure it still hurts for a girl not to have her Daddy at Father's Day; and yes, my heart is still broken and I'm crying even as I type. But I am so thankful to God for the especially wonderful Daddy that He gave me and for all the memories we were allowed to make through the years. I truly was Daddy's little girl and am grateful for the Christian life he lived.

I plan to celebrate Father's Day 2008 by recalling all the memories I can of my special Daddy, Charles (Charlie) Edward Broyles. Whether I end up laughing or crying over those memories, it is my privilege to celebrate the life of such a godly Christian man that God picked out to be my Daddy.

Don't miss out on making memories with your Daddy this weekend!
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© 06-12-08 by Janet F. Broyles
This devotional is protected by copyright laws and may not be reprinted or posted to a site without permission from Janet F. Broyles. All readers are welcome to forward the devotional to a friend or link to it. If you would like to seek permission to reprint the devotional in full, please leave a message for me here.
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Monday, June 9, 2008

My first blog

This is my first blog on my first blog space. A friend of mine in Florida, Amber, started a blog space and I was inspired to do the same.

I don't have much to post today. It rained all night Sunday night and up until lunch-time today. Now there are alerts for flash-flooding along the roads and the possibility of rivers flooding as well. I did fine on my drive into work today from Mom's house, but did encounter several places where water was already onto the road.

Life is always different in Oklahoma "...where the wavin' wheat can sure smell sweet, and the wind comes right behind the rain...." The young man who rents one of Mom's (and Dad's) farms already has his wheat crop cut, thankfully before the rain. The wind (85-100 mph straight-line) came last week to help ripen the wheat faster and this week is actually the rain, so we're backwards from the song text, but God knows best. Rodgers & Hammerstein will understand.

Today is my Aunt Marymarie's 80th birthday. We had a wonderful weekend full of surprises for her with all the family and friends that could be rounded up.

I look forward to reading posts from all of you who have time to participate in this blog spot.

Because of Jesus,
Janet B =o)