The Harvest

The sun hangs low in the cloud-filled sky; brilliant splashes of colors streaking while the sun starts to drift wearily towards its nighttime slumber.

We’ve been playing at the playground for an hour or so, and my boy has been poking around and shuffling feet as the hour has stretched thin and it is almost time to go. He doesn’t want to play with me today; he wants a friend all his own to chase after and skip with and tell little boy secrets with in the deep green cave of the spirally slide.  A few other friends have hurt his feelings lately, and he is feeling lonely, unliked, unwanted.

A few moments later we hear laughter, and another boy runs up; fellow momma in tow. She sits down with a weary sigh and a subdued expression a few feet away while her boy dashes to the slide, and my boy runs to me suddenly shy. He hides behind and peeks around, fear of actually acting on what he hoped for creeping in.  I tell him to go ask the other boys name, to see if he wants to play in the last few minutes we have. My boy hangs back, uncertain and afraid.

The other boy sees him; comes running up and says his name and says, “Do you wanna play?” with a huge grin. Almost instantly a smile stretches across my boy’s face and they are off and running, new best buddies bonded by a common goal and exuberance with life.

I watch the ease with which they play; unhindered by worry or social bounds or etiquette or rules. They laugh together, they exude joy together, they bring each other a little glimpse of companionship at just the right moment.

I think how I long to be courageous and free like that; to run unhindered into relationships and friendships and casual interactions with strangers all around, simply to bring joy to someone else’s day.

I glance down at the passage I’ve been meditating on that evening; talking about a harvest.

“Do you not say, ‘There are still four months and then comes the harvest’? Behold, I say to you, lift up your eyes and look at the fields, for they are already white for harvest! And he who reaps receives wages, and gathers fruit for eternal life, that both he who sows and he who reaps may rejoice together.” ~John 4: 34-36

I stare at the words; scribbled on the page of my journal. I stare at the boys. And then I glance back at the other momma, alone and staring off into the distance.

I take a deep breath.

I start to get up.

I sit down again, and want my momma’s skirt to hide behind.

I tell myself another time, when I am more brave, more ready, dressed better, less tired.

Then I glance at the words again.

I finally get up with sweaty hands wiping nervously on shaky jean-clad legs, and walk over and say Hello.

I stumble over halting words to tell her how my son had been having a hard day, and that her son’s invitation had made his day suddenly brighter.  As I feel my face flushing red and think that surely my heart is going to pound out of my chest, I thank her for her son’s kind heart.

Her eyes start to well up; slow, fat tears threatening to spill over. I pause, suddenly sure that I am exactly where God wanted me to be. I ask if she is okay, and she smiles and tells me about the hard day she has had with feeling like all her efforts to teach her son kindness were going unnoticed. She tells me that she needed encouragement as a mother today. We sit and talk about faith and our boys and the sunset. With no expectations except to share love, share hope, share Jesus.

I think again on the harvest.  I know that I will most likely never see this woman again; but I start to see that she is a part of the harvest, ready for reaping all around me.

And I am the sower; no matter how ill prepared or scared or uncertain I feel. I just have to look around me, and see the need, and take that chance.

He will help me to be courageous and free.

• Happy Harvest