The dust billowed up behind Paul's truck as he barrelled down that ole dirt road toward home. The sun was getting low on the horizon. That was the case more often these days than it'd been in earlier years when life seemed simpler. Back when Pops was still around and Grandad was the judge in town; back when helping out on the farm was an after-school job.
Times had changed, the years flown by, and even the clouds had turned gray and seemed to loom in the pink tinted sky.
Momma stood on the front porch wiping her hands on her apron. Dinner was done and just in time. Her apple pie sat on the window sill cooling. All the while as the sweat upon her brow continued to trickle down the side of her face as a gentle breeze slowly stirred.
Paul slowed on his approach to the farm house. You could practically hear the motor building pressure as Paul began downshifting in his life.
“How, Lord, am I gonna make this work? How can a good ole country boy survive?” Paul shuffled through the late notices and mail piled upon the kitchen table. Momma’s biscuits were fresh and sitting in the middle of the table. Her gravy was still stirring beneath her care. Paul pulled out a chair and sat down to mull over the business he’d come to face. The terms he saw as their only choice.
“Momma," Paul cleared his throat, "I’ve been thinking. Dad wouldn’t want it this way, but he’d understand. Grandad couldn't say it any better, either. I just don’t see any way around it. We’re going to loose the farm.”
Momma finished stirring the gravy and turned off the gas burner. She hummed an old melody as she brought the gravy over to the table and sat it down on a tile heat plate.
“You want some milk, water,or O.J.,son?”
“Milk, will be fine.”, Paul replied. "Are you hearing what I'm saying, Momma???"
A few seconds later she returned and sat down to join Paul as he hurriedly fixed his plate. Momma slapped at Paul’s outreached hands, “Now let’s not get so far ahead of things that we don’t thank God for what we’ve got.”
Those few words framed the conversation Paul had been wrestling with over and over in his head. Applying it took a lot of effort to remember to do. Even the simplest of which in STOPPING; making time to pray.
Paul bowed his head and folded his hands to pray, “ God…thank you for your blessings. This food on this table, the roof over our heads, and time with family in which to share it. You gave us everything we’d ever need when your son laid his life down. May our gratitude and service honor the work you began and will finish in our lives. These things we ask, in Jesus’ name, Amen.”
“Amen.”, Momma responded, “Now pass your momma some of those biscuits!”
