My way or the highway...

After school, Gayle and I would ride the bus to town. We would get off and walk a block to mama’s office, do our homework while we waited for daddy to pick us up on his way home from work at the paper mill. We lived over the county line and the bus did not have a route by our house. Daddy would swing by around 4:15 or so and we would be home by 4:45. One of us became the sacrificial lamb who changed clothes to go with daddy to feed the cows. This field duty was a pain and a pleasure.
As a child, daddy’s job was to tend the cows. Before school, he let them out of the barn to roam free range all day. No one had fences much then for stock. Farmers identified their stock by ear notches, brands or bells. After school, daddy would round up the cows, locating them by the chiming of the cow’s bell. He loved cows, knew the way they thought and felt. Years of living with them, watching and learning what they needed, study at an agricultural college preparing to be a county agent, left him with strong ideas on the proper way to raise cattle.
The tractor had a large spike on the front that lifted and held a round bale of hay. Perched on the side step of the tractor, daddy driving, I would ride down the lane to the pasture to help lay out the hay. Twice a day, morning and evening, the cows were fed and checked. There was a pattern to laying out the hay. Daddy would drive slowly while I peeled off a layer of hay in chunks. It had to be laid out in a straight line, separated by just the right amount of distance to prevent the cows from stepping on it, and enough to feed them during the day. The hard work of putting up hay makes farmers testy when animals waste it. And daddy would get testy if his helpers didn’t lay it out like he wanted it. “My way or the highway” was daddy’s motto about farm work. Routine farm work, nothing special, a life of tending, feeding, caring for and selling animals...
And now, in one of life’s many ironies, I find myself repeating the same pattern. I get up, fix a cup of tea, head down to the stable where I am met by two hungry donkeys and three hungry horses. I put them in their stalls, give them their grain and lay out the hay just so in the field they call home. As I place each flake in a straight line, just so far apart and no farther, I hopskipjump back in time and hear daddy’s voice saying, “There, Peggy... NOT THERE... THERE!” Laughter bubbles up at the joke God has played on me. I am indeed my father’s daughter.
Instruction, whether in laying out hay or living in hopelovejoypeace, is necessary for those of us who are students learning the ways of God. The liturgical seasons of the church year give us a time to focus on ways to lay out our spiritual hay. Every year we have another chance to add to our experience, our knowledge of God when we observe and practice Advent. Sometimes, after years of practice, a cow bell rings in our soul and we find what we have been looking for... hope..love...joy...peace...right under our noses, ready to be laid out just so in the pastures of our lives. This week I have been laying our chunks of hope and love while I wait on joy. I am blessed. Advent blessings to you. Remember to lay out the hay of Advent so that you might be ready for Christmas.