Walking through fields on a cold morning

The fields are still there, just as they have always been. On this Sunday morning it is cold, and the difference is that I am here, walking in the fields. How long has it been since I walked to the back of this pasture?

There was a period during high school when I trained for running track on that old rutted road that leads down to the vacant house and barn. I hated every minute of it - never was that fast, either. There was the day as teenagers when Ann and I decided to "smoke" hay. Now that's brilliant - lighting matches in a full hayloft! I remember the day some friends saw me in my pigtails driving the tractor in this field, shredding hay. They said I looked like Pippi Longstocking, bouncing around on that tractor. I did love shredding those fields.

One of my favorite things to do in this pasture was to ride with Daddy in the Chevy pickup as he sped us across the pasture so we could see the jackrabbits run from their hiding places. Now that was fun! It takes a man who really knows his pasture to run a pickup at what seemed like high speed across those fields. There were potholes there, and he knew where they were. Even so, it was a rough and very exciting ride. And Daddy was in his element, laughing, full of joy at being with his family in his field. A man with his children in his truck on his farm land.

He is still full of joy being with his family. It's been 40 years since the jackrabbit running days, we don't all fit in one pickup anymore, the jackrabbit population has shrunk because of fire ants, and today Daddy is sitting in his chair smiling simply because we are there and because our children are there. With him. Together. That is what the pasture has always been about: family, being together, loving the land.

I've done a lot of walking the land since the days of my childhood, but not much of it in this pasture. I've hiked the Sierra Nevadas, the Blue Dot trail to the Rio Grande River in New Mexico, the Quemazon trail, trails in southern Colorado near Wolf Creek Pass, many trails in Texas State Parks. This pasture I'm walking is not a trail but black dirt farmland with well over a hundred large round bails of hay, almost as tall as I am, for which there is no market this year. I wonder how we could get them over to Georgia where they desperately need hay? The black dirt on this Texas plain was productive this year.

Today I came out here to get my heart rate up. I must plan to do that on a regular basis if I want to keep living well. And my heart rate is up. So is my awareness. Daddy is not well. He is still getting up and around, taking care of himself for the most part. But he is not well. How can there be a world without this man? The earth is beginning to shift at the thought. The earth under the black Texas farmland, the earth under the mountain trails, the earth under the Texas parks. Something fundamental is changing as this man lives now on the border of this world and looks into the next. He knows he's leaving soon. We know he's leaving soon. But how can it possibly be?

The air is crisp and cold this Sunday morning as I walk the pasture. I know that my Redeemer lives and that he shall stand upon the earth someday. I will see God. I will see him with my dad and my mother, with Eula and Clint, Eunice and Marvin, Bill, Ed, Mac, Shorty, Vera, Ojeta, Jewel, Evelyn, Libby, Mark, . How does one move from one day driving joyfully through the pastures rousting rabbits to the next standing joyfully with the heavenly chorus? How does one move from being one day in the pasture on a cold morning, aware of the great cloud of witnesses surrounding us to the next day becoming one of the great cloud of witnesses? I don't know.

But walking in this pasture this morning I know that we are here together and that even when the earth shakes and shifts, we will still be together in some strange and wonderful way. This I know.

Blessed be God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be. World without end, amen.

Shepherds standing in the field

We were shepherds standing in the field blinded by a great light, and the angel said, "Don't be afriad." It happened this week. Monday night. In Dr. Glen Luepnitz' office.

We had ventured once again to visit yet another doctor who might hold some hope for Austin's disease. We've never really believed that he simply "has" juvenile rheumatoid arthritis and there's nothing we can do about it. But we have been to a lot of doctors and practitioners and spent a lot of money and had a lot of hope only to be ultimately disappointed. Only to realize that for now Austin just needs to keep taking the drugs that at least keep the disease from taking over his life.

So once again we went to visit a doctor who might prove to have some answers. It was astounding, really, as we sat in his office for well over an hour and listened to him talk about chemistry and biology and genetics and all of it related to Austin and really to our entire family. The details are detailed, and that is not the point of this writing. What is important is that we sat in awe as so much of what we heard made sense, and Dr. Luepnitz said that yes, he would be able to help Austin get better. He spoke with authority. We heard as those who are dying for hope. We heard as desert travelers who have found water.

We heard as startled shepherds in the field. The light shined on us, the nighttime field was full of light, and we were not afraid. "Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be for all the people."

I think there are many times when we are shepherds in the field hearing the angels bringing joy.

Like being with my parents tonight eating chicken soup and decorating the Christmas tree.

Like standing in the chapel at the oblate renewal center with my 40+ fellow travelers in the Academy for Spiritual Formation as we celebrate the eucharist together.

Like being a part of the 10 year anniversary celebration of St. Barnabas the Encourager Evengelical Covenant Church this weekend.

Like going on a college visit to Southwestern University with Lauren on a gorgeous fall day and getting a Baja Blast at Taco Bell afterwards.

Like being in a community of believers where I can support and be supported, where people believe in me, and I believe in them.

Like saying night prayer with my Academy friends. Like saying night prayer with my parents in their home. Like saying night prayer with Phillip and Lauren and Amanda.

Like having a friend willing to meet me at the gym and help me begin an exercise routine after being so un-routine about my exercise for so long.

Like having a really wonderful boss.

Like knowing that I am capable of loving more than I'm usually willing to love and being challenged to live into loving more than I do.

Like being thankful for the saints that have gone before us and knowing that we will join them someday - but hopefully not yet!

Like petting our 11-year-old cat.

I'm thankful that our time with Dr. Luepnitz this week called that wonder to mind, reminded me that we really are in Advent, that the coming of Christ into our world did not only happen long ago but that it indeed continues to happen. Sometimes I'm startled into awareness.

The world is wondrous, and I want to always be like shepherds in the nighttime field standing in awe of this amazing thing that is happening right before my eyes.