treasures in the darkness

Jeannie’s voice was excited. "Can you come now, Peggy, and see this farm?" Tim, Jeannie, Michael and I had been searching for several years, trying to find twenty or so acres we could buy and then split for a min-farm. It had been a long frustrating search. She gave me instructions and I drove out to Weaverville, headed towards Marshall, turned on Shepherd’s Branch (where the Shepherd family lived) and began looking for Edna Roberts Road. I turned to the left and crossed Flat Creek, drove up a narrow gravel road bordered by a creek on one side and high rock hill on the other. We climbed into the real estate agents four wheel drive vehicle and began to drive up the hill.
There was no easily passable road. The old toll road was eroded and rutted beyond belief and the other road was crude but could be driven with a four wheel drive. As we crested the hill, Jeannie said, "How about this for your house site and we could build on the other hill facing the barn. I love that old barn." A couple from California had made an offer but the deal had fallen through. We had a narrow window of opportunity to make another offer. In less than twenty four hours, we were committed to buying this farm. Instead of twenty acres, it was sixty some odd. Instead of an anonymous tract of land, it was the Clarence and Edna Roberts Farm. Instead of isolation, we found country community. Instead of life lived within four walls, we found life of all kinds lived in the outdoor homestead. We found home.
Eight years have come and gone since that sunny day. Days of gladness and grief, days of sunshine and shadow, days of sweet hard labor and blessed rest, days of peace and turmoil, all of them blessed days even in times of trial. For eight years I have watched autumn come and the little deaths of winter begin... the death of abundant light, the death of the summer leaves and flowers, the hardening of the ground into a frozen shell. We draw inward as the cold weather comes and gather around the light and warmth in our homes.
It is not easy to be outside when ice, snow and cold winds blow. We venture outside for the tasks that must be performed layered in coveralls, hats and gloves. Darkness covers us in the morning and evening as we throw hay, put out feed, check the stock to make sure they are warm and fed. We settle in to sleep at night covered by quilts, listening to the wind on the hill howl, resting gently, knowing all is well in the midst of the winter darkness.
Lent, for me, is that same process of venturing out into the darkness and cold to do what must be done. If I did not go out into the cold to check the cows, Buzz Light Year could have died from exposure when his hoof was caught in the manger. If I did not get up and go out in the morning darkness to feed, the cows and Junie B would be hungry. We venture out in the night darkness to do what must be done, sometimes to the tunes of coyote songs, because we must.
And yet there are treasures in the darkness and the cold. Deer grazing on the hillside, startled into frozen poses of grace by our passage... turkeys gobbling and flying as the dogs and Michael walk by... possums scuttling in the barn looking for leftover cat food, falling over and playing possum dead... the warmth in the barn from the cows and the soft sounds of their eating hay from mama and daddy’s farm... barn cats watching over me from their perches high on the hay as I put their food out... Bud Barn Cat twining around my legs asking for a pat... the silence, the blessed silence of the dark.
Lenten dark silence with treasures for those who take the risk of venturing inward to the great outdoors contained within our souls. There is no way I have found that can take me to the Heart of God without first passing through the dark cold clear winter lightdarkness of Lent. Here in the middle of my self, honestly grappling with my lack of perfection, the darkness begins to show me new signs of life. Brush away the leaf cover in the woods and you can find some green even when it appears all is dead and frozen. And so it is with Lent, the life of the soul is holding on against all odds and preparing for resurrection spring.
"I will give you the treasures of darkness and the hoards in secret places, that you may know that it is I, the Lord, the God of Israel, who calls you by your name...I call you by your name, I surname you, though you do not know me... I gird you though you do not know me... I form light and create darkness... I am the Lord who do all these things." Isaiah 45: 3-7
Call my name, Lord, this Lenten season. I will be down by the barn feeding in the dark morning waiting and watching for you. Peggy Hester