Sunday, 29 November -0001 18:42

Youth Page

Written by Peter Langbroek
One morning in February:
"Farumpa, farumpa, farumpa", the sound of the milking machines echoed in the milking parlour when Trevor's dad, in his plaid shirt and white toque yelled: "When you're done, hitch the PTO shaft to the manure spreader. It looks like a good day to spread manure."

Twelve-year old Trevor was thrilled. This was the second time he was allowed to spread manure. After breakfast, he quickly ran to the John Deere tractor, hitched the PTO shaft to the spreader and lowered the boom into the manure pit. When the spreader was full, Trevor proudly drove the tractor into the 100-acre field. From the cab, he could see long rows of brown corn stubble, and on each sharp corner of the field some stalks the harvester could not catch.

One morning in April:
"I'm gonna take you on the field to disc, Trevor. Spray down the parlour, and meet me by the machine shed after breakfast. Tell Mom I got to watch the cow. It's gonna calve any minute," shouted Trevor's dad as he washed the milking machines in the large stainless steel sink.

After breakfast, Trevor's dad hitched the disc to the tractor. Trevor followed his dad to the field (one on the tractor was the rule in his family).

Trevor watched his dad disc the field. The crows and seagulls soon followed, snatching worms from the freshly plowed field. Trevor took a deep breath. He loved the smell of spring soil. He couldn't wait for dad to let him disc the next four rows, as his dad would watch his first tries at disking.

One afternoon at the Coop in May:
"Let's load the seed bags in the back of the truck," dad said, after paying the cashier. "If it doesn't rain, we'll be seeding tomorrow." The week before, Trevor's dad had cultipacked the soil for seeding. Of course, it had to be a school day, thought Trevor miserably. But tomorrow would be Saturday. Trevor hoped it wouldn't rain.

One Sunday in June looking out from the porch:
"The corn's coming up fine," smiled Trevor's dad. He put his arm on Trevor's shoulder as they both looked down at the 80-acre field. "I've been farming for twenty years. I know how to get the soil ready and seed it. But I don't make it grow. God gets the credit for that."

Two weeks later, on a Saturday:
Trevor stood by the corn. It was up to his knees.

One hot day in July:
Trevor, soaked from jumping on the trampoline with water, bounced up. He could see the corn was up to his shoulders now.

In August, the corn was way above his head!

One evening in September:
"I just talked to your teacher. There's no big assignment or test tomorrow. So you can stay home and help me harvest.

"Yes!" Trevor shouted.

"It's gonna a be an all-nighter. I'm warning you, son", his Dad said.

The next day:
The farm buzzed with energy. Rick, the milker, was there to help out. Mr. Enns, across the road, was there to pitch in with the harvesting. Mom and Bryanne were busy cooking and baking and packing lunches.

A little while later, Trevor was in the field, alert, watching the scythe cut the corn, push the stalks into the machine, and chop the corn. Trevor looked behind him. The corn, once standing like proud soldiers, in bits and pieces, was blown into the wagon behind him.

The next morning:
The sun was rising. The rooster was crowing when Trevor and his dad drove into the yard.

"What do you say we help milk," dad joked.

"I know where I'm going, Dad," sighed Trevor as he thought of slipping between the sheets and crashing his head on the pillow.

"You did a good job, son." Dad stopped, turned around to look at the freshly harvested corn. They could finally see what they'd done that night. "This field has a story to tell us. Never forget it. And the stubble will remind us all winter about what happened this year."

"What do you mean, Dad?" Trevor looked up at him.

"You'll hear in a half-hour."

A half an hour later:
Breakfast was served. Dad took the Bible and turned to Mark 4:26-29.

And he said, So is the kingdom of God, as if a man should cast seed into the ground;

And should sleep, and rise night and day, and the seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not how.

For the fruit earth bringeth forth fruit of herself; first the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear.

But when the fruit is brought forth, immediately he putteth in the sickle, because the harvest is come.

Dad closed the Bible, bowed his head, and thanked God, not just for the harvest, but for the harvest of His people, His children, His kingdom and the harvest that is yet to come when the time is ripe for Jesus' coming.

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