Date of original journal entry: November 23, 2016
I’m walking casually across the yard, my long, full skirt is blowing softly in the afternoon breeze. I’m talking agriculture with two eager young men. My hands are gesturing in my own excitement as we three view the property and discuss the possibilities. So much more could be happening here and I desperately want to ignite their vision for introducing new methods and new vegetables.
Then I hear myself as from a distance. My own voice sounds far away to me as a concurrent thought catches me off guard.
In a few months I’ll be 55 years old. The young men I’m talking to are African. I’m standing on a developing mission/agricultural station in West Africa. The garden is the classroom, not just for them but also for me. Only God!
In an instant the years flash by me and I see an amazing parallel. Stephen and I are doing all the same things we did in our young 20s and 30s but now, under the guiding hand of our Father, they’re being used for His purposes. The agriculture, the poultry, the teaching, the homestead lifestyle, and especially the art — they all now have eternal purpose, an eternal weight of glory. My head spins at the rush of the thought!
And just as quickly, I’m back to the two eager sets of deep brown eyes fastened on me as I talk of things entirely new to them.
And they teach me too!