Fresh Fields - C ... The hotel of the desperate.



Tragic (but not unexpected) was the best description of events in town.

In utter silence he returned home. Solitude was now the hotel of the desperate. Despair too generous a term to describe the inner turmoil that freely moved through all his internal systems.

The old mare sidled along with energy commensurate to her age. She only carried 2 burdens, old age and the dray. She did not reflect on either of these burdens as their weight was no more than usual.

Ever so slowly he passed the golden stalks that evidenced fertility. His criticisms, resentments and ill judgements were unusually absent. In fact on this return trip he did not notice the prosperity at all. No malevolence was in his mind now, only the heart wrenching dismay of most recent conversations in town.

The tray on his cart was largely empty. Only residual grace and goodwill had prevented him from returning home as empty as he'd arrived. His tray simply a metaphor to his life, and the farm he was so slowly approaching. Barreness of land will always lead to barrenness of bread.

His thoughts and fears were all very firmly located on those he truly loved. He visualised her tortured expression as she saw the tray approach.

As a Christian farming family for countless generations, it would have been reasonable (even expected) that he knew the Biblical principle that it is impossible to grow abundance among thorns. (Mt 13:7)

The old mare needed no direction. He was incapable of giving any direction, anyway. In what felt an eternity they slowly arrived at his rustic front porch.

Neither knew what would await them from either side of the front door. He could only guess at her response (although it would be a well educated guess). Until she saw him, she too could only guess if credit was received yet again.

Finally the inevitable arrived as she opened the door. Their eyes were magnetically pulled to each other. No word had passed his lips, but she knew! She had also seen the near empty tray. Their tears flowed without restraint. They could not control their sadness.

At least their future was now clear. There could be no more indecisiveness. No more prayerful hope that thorns could produce abundance. No more sweat, no more painful piercings or back breaking days on this farm. The bank's foreclosure on his ill judgements echoed his foreclosure on God's provision and answers.

Heaven had acted.

Heaven had never been dis-interested or unobservant. All his prayers had been answered even well before he'd prayed.

Matt 13:12 ... 20th Jan 09
 


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