Gary laid down the hay last evening in the high barn field. Tonight he will cut the hay in front of mama’s house. We have had so much rain that the hay is heavy, high and juicy. It will take some time to cure. The weather report shifted in midweek from a high percentage of rain to widely scattered showers so we gambled on those showers falling elsewhere. Michael will tedder (or stir or fluff, depending on where you live) the hay Friday to make sure the hay dries all the way through. With some luck, we will bale on Saturday and maybe Sunday. Our hay ox will be in the ditch and we will work until the hay is up. Then we have to cut the remaining fields the next weekend. We will bale Gary’s fields as well as ours.
A hay baling alert has gone out to friends and church family asking for help. This is hard work and more hands make the load lighter. James has already called checking on the schedule. His back prevents him from lifting so he drives the truck, my old job. I cook a farmhand meal and keep the workers in water. In the midst of all the sweaty, hot, muscle straining work, laughter and joshing abound. God gave men more upper body strength and in hay baling season, I am grateful for that. Slinging hay bales uphill, stacking bales five high on the trailer, unloading and stacking the bales in the barn requires muscles that I do not enough of. I can do it... it just takes longer. So I cook and drive and keep the water flowing, grateful for all who come.
Farmers are Gideon gamblers at heart. Every year they plant their crops, raise their animals and hope the market will pay enough to pay expenses and have some left over. It takes a prodigious amount of hope and determination to put all that you have... time, energy, money, trust, love and hope... into your crop then wait for harvest. Like Gideon laying out his fleece and checking it to see if it was wet or dry, farmers put it all on the line and pray.
This hay crop is no small matter for us. Last year we had to buy hay several times because the drought cut our hay yield drastically. The leaning barn was just a little over half full at the end of the summer. This year we spent money up front on fertilizer, gambling the rains would come and the sun would shine when we needed it to. Feeding cows takes a lot of hay, at least eight bales a day in cold weather for our little herd. It doesn’t take long for that to add up. Eight bales a day times seven days times four weeks times seven months is 1568 bales. This year we hope to get two cuttings with the largest yield in the first cutting.
Nothing like a barn full of hay to help me sing my thanks to God. The smell is intoxicating... fresh and earthy. The pale green neatly stacked bales are a stocked pantry for cows and the deer that roam our fields. Barn cats tunnel through the bales and have a shelter from cold winter winds. Memories of friends who helped with the harvest warm my heart as I pull those bales down to feed the cows in the autumn and winter months. As a farmer’s daughter and now as farmer and farmer’s wife, I know how that farmer in the New Testament felt when he surveyed his overflowing barns. There is such satisfaction in seeing the result of hard work, faith and hope piled high in a barn, a guarantee against the harsh times of want and need. His mistake was forgetting to be grateful, not giving credit where credit was due. We plant and harvest because we have been given much... the land, the good weather, life and health to enjoy it, friends to share in the work, laughter and love. Our Gideon gambles pay off in so many ways because of the graciousness of a giving God.
An old hymn we sang when I was growing up says it best. “Bring ye all your tithes into the storehouse, All your money, talents, time and love. Consecrate them all upon the altar, While your Savior from above speaks sweetly, Trust me, try me, prove me saith the Lord of Hosts and see if a blessing, unmeasured blessing, I will not pour out on thee.” So we will be baling sweet hay this weekend, God willing, and I will be singing my gratitude to the One who blesses me, fills my barn full and overflowing, graces me with “friends who are family and family who are friends.” Amen.
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