Devotional by Margaret Almond

Remembering My Roots

“A farmer went out to sow his seed. As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path; it was trampled on, and the birds of the air ate it up. Some fell on rock and when it came up, the plants withered because they had no moisture. Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up with it and choked the plants. Still other seed fell on good soil. It came up and yielded a crop, a hundred times more than was sown.” Luke 8:7
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Growing up in the country, I learned so much from my short time on a farm. The importance of good seeds, water and sunshine reminded me of Sunday School when we would place a seed in a paper cup filled with loamy soil and add a small amount of water. There was a perfect place on the ledge of the window where each cup sat during the week and on Sunday we would rush in to see if our seed had sprouted. Most of us did not realize that one of the teachers would do a mid-week watering!

Raised on a farm with eight siblings, planting was of great importance to Dad. However, before planting could begin, the ground had to be worked, plowed, harrowed and smoothed out in order for the rows of seeds could be planted. My Dad was a stickler for straight rows! He was also a stickler for picking up any stone larger than a little fist each year to make tilling easier. Of course, he had several “workers” to pick up these rocks and we would carry them to the edge of the woods.

Once the seeds were planted, Dad would sit on the front porch and wait for a slow rain, just enough to nourish the seeds to sprout. When the rains did not come, he would still wait patiently. Little did I realize at that young age that farming was based on faith. Dad had faith that the fields would bear a bounty that would afford him the ability to pay for the purchase of the seeds and fertilizer he had bought on credit. Sometimes the rains came but also the hail which would beat the tender seedling to a pulp. He would still be positive that the plants would regain their stamina and would be productive. The scripture describes my Dad’s principles of farming and sowing the seeds.

As I have aged, I have come to realize just how much my parent’s roots have reflected my life’s decisions. My dad was full of faith. He always thought everything would work out for the glory of God. He didn’t just say that, that was his belief all the way to his toes! He was honest, had integrity and faithfulness. He had enough love for all of us even when we were lazy and had to be prodded to do our chores.

A good example happened not long before he died. He had a heart condition which made it impossible for him to do heavy work. He stayed home with the children while my mother worked in mill.

After arriving home from school one hot day, Dad informed us that the fields of cotton were white and needed to be picked; however, he also realized that we had been in a hot schoolroom all day and he would not require much of us in the form of labor. So he announced that all four of us (those still living at home) would go to the field but we needed to pick only 100 lbs. together.

We were delighted as that meant we would be finished in time to hear the Lone Ranger on the radio! So off we go with our favorite feed sack tied around our waist. We floundered along taking our own time and soon, the older brother announced that we should all empty our sacks on the burlap sheet. We picked a little more while talking, laughing and enjoying each other. Then it was decided that we had exactly 100 lbs. on that sheet so we tied up the corners, took it across the field to the crib where a set of scales were waiting for our arrival. We hung the cotton on the scales, moved the weight up and down until it reached 100 lbs. However, we were a few pounds short! Our joy subsided when the brother announced that we would have to go back to the field. But wait – the stored cotton that had already been weighed was within a few feet so the agreement was that each would grab a handful, stuff it into our sheet until the weight landed exactly on 100 lbs. How lucky we were.

Our job was done for the day and we headed to the house.

It was not long before Dad came in the house and asked all of us to sit down in front of him. Oh, no..not another “tongue lashing” but that’s exactly what we got. Dad told us how sad he was that we had let him down by cheating. Little did we know that he was standing in the corn field and was watching us all the time we were weighing the cotton. We didn’t move nor blink an eye. We listened and yes, we had failed at the things our roots had taught us through the years, honesty, integrity, and to never tell a lie. After the talk, we then went outside to get our switches for our punishment which was the easiest part of all.

September has always held special meanings to me because Dad died suddenly in September. I was just entering my teen years. My siblings and I were required to becoming adults, accepting the responsibilities that had come our way. The fields of cotton with straight rows were now ready to be picked. The corn was ready to be pulled and cribbed. Dad’s planting had produced the fruits of his labor. It was time for us to honor his memory, doing what we always did when the crops were ready to be gathered.

Little did I know the faithfulness of my Dad until the day of his funeral . The church minister shared a time of visiting us on one of many occasions and Dad asked him to go with him to pray. They walked to the barn where Dad had erected an altar made of bales of straw. It had been placed in a stable. This was his place of daily prayer and meditation. I believe this is where he would go to pray when the soil became parched and seeds that had sprouted would wither. He would pray to God that if it was His will, rains would come and make the plants take on a new life. His prayer life was not centered just on the weather. I believe he prayed for each of us, for peace, and for protection during World War II where he had three sons serving active duty when the war ended. I believe he prayed the prayer Jesus taught his disciples and prayed for forgiveness. I also believe this was a part of his daily living. He lived and died understanding the meaning of the parable: The seed is the word of God.

I have thought of this many times during my adult life. He had many mouths to feed but did not worry. He always had faith, he maintained his closeness with God. He left as our inheritance – not silver or gold – but faith, honor and love for God.