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15th of August

Remember the Corn

Dear Little Faith,

Remember last spring when you wrote that piece about corn?  Remember how you photographed fields of weeds by your house and said how the farmers weren’t able to plant because of the cold and the wet?  Remember how you said everyone was wondering if they’d ever be able to seed the ground and pull a crop?


Open your eyes and look!  My fields were planted, albeit late by your standard.  My fields grew, albeit slowly by your standard.  I remembered you and your horses and my farmers and all my animals and people who must eat from my hand.  You—all of you—were not forgotten.



And last night?  You and your family enjoyed the first-fruits of my land that you worried wouldn’t produce.  Corn was pulled from those fields around you and you drew back the husks and simmered your first batch of sweet.  You poured butter hot, made from my cows in those fields all around, and you slathered that corn.  And as your children waited at table eager, I heard you bless the food.  And I heard you moan delight as you tasted your first bite.  I loved every second of dinner last night, watching you enjoy my gifts.


So, what do you think about worrying now?  What do you think about projecting into the future which I hold in my able hands?  Did any of that worry add one more kernel of corn to your plate?  Did any of that fretting cause one more ear to grow in the fields?


But I know.  I know you and your kind.  You want assurance because you’re all such a frightened bunch.  You want to know all will be well with you and those you love.  I know.  And it will.  Maybe not in the way you think or hope or plan sometimes.

But all will—be—well and even better than  you hope.

I promise.


I won’t let anything happen that I can’t fix or use for something wonderful.

I promise.

And even when it seems like I don’t see or hear or feel—believe me, I DO!  I see and hear and feel it all.  And I’ve got it all working together, just so, even though you can’t see all or hear all or feel all.  Even though you don’t know all.

I do.

I hold each star in proper place.  I hold your planet just so, not an inch too close, not an inch too far from the sphere of fire I made to warm you and all you love, just right.  And the whirling galaxies?  I made those too and I keep them spinning all the while I hear you and attend to your slightest needs, your unspoken prayers.

Don’t pain yourself trying to understand.  You can’t.  Just relax.  Just believe.  Just rest.  Trust me.  I’ve never let you down and I never, ever will.

I love you true.

So next time your heart starts feeling heavy and your mind begins to worry, think of me.  Think of my cornfields.  Think of my heavens above you.  Remember my faithfulness.


I never change.

My love for you—for all I have made—is steadfast and true.

I AM what I AM.

Let me cover you with peace and fill you with joy.  Every day.  Every minute.  No matter what.  I AM with you.

With more love than you can possibly imagine,  I AM . . .

Your Immanuel


“They shall call His name Immanuel,” which is translated, “God with us.”  Matthew 1:23


We sing, Immanuel, Thy praise,

Thou Prince of life and Fount of grace,

Thou Flower of heaven and Star of morn,

Thou Lord of lords, Thou virgin born.



And I, Thy servant, Lord, today

Confess my love and freely say,

I love Thee truly, but I would

That I might love Thee as I should.



Hymnist Paul Gerhardt, 1653

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Come stroll the trails with me on our 44 acre Midwest horse farm where I seek God in the ordinary and always find Him--the Extraordinary--wooing, teaching, wowing me with Himself. Thanks for visiting. I hope you will be blessed!

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