With faith, we watch leaves wither and drop, grass succumb to frost and snow. Winter grabs ahold of the land. We are held in stillness. But in confidence, we know there is much life beneath the snow.
With faith, a farmer drops seeds into prepared soil. It’s ground that has been nourished and cared for. Those seeds are planted in confidence, the farmer believing in them, trusting them to soften in the dirt, sprout tiny leaves and roots, and grow toward the sun before one day bearing their gifts to the world. Along the way, the farmer tends. It’s a discipline: exactingly pulling invading plants from around the tiny seedlings, routinely watering, perhaps even speaking truth and light.
With faith, a rancher opens the gate, releasing cattle into a pasture that’s been quietly loved by giving it rest. The rancher is long-suffering, committing to a grazing plan designed to yield results over time, all the while enduring economic shifts, fluctuating weather, and the realities of the cycle of life with the goal of nurturing each calf to maturity. The work is long; the reward is great.
With faith, a mother pulls muffins from the oven. The aroma of berries and whole grains wafts through the air. The baby is in the highchair, fists full of yogurt; the first grader is retrieving a plate from the cupboard. Once cooled, the mother slips a muffin onto the plate and watches her child take in nourishment and pleasure with each bite. With kindness, she’s sought food raised by the hands of the people she knows. With patience, she’s sought to create goodness in the kitchen.
As our corner of the Treasure State is enveloped by autumnal hues, we gather in fellowship, thankful for another season, thankful for what’s been given. Fall is abounding with gifts from the soil: fruits, berries, vegetables, and meats. With hearts full of gratitude, we enjoy those gifts fresh, save them in ways that will extend their delight well into the cold and dark days of winter, and serve them in loving ways to our family, friends, and neighbors.
Fall is also a time of remembrance, a slowing down as we lean in and listen. We find joy in memories from the summer and hold reverence for what it took to get where we are.
With faith, we watch leaves wither and drop, grass succumb to frost and snow. Winter grabs ahold of the land. We are held in stillness. But in confidence, we know there is much life beneath the snow.
Jessianne Castle
Editor in Chief
