“I can’t wait!” How many times have you heard that from a child in your life?
Whether it is for a big birthday celebration, Christmas morning, or the last day of school—kids are always waiting for something, anything.
Even as adults, oftentimes the hardest thing we do is wait. Whether it is for the promotion we have worked so hard for, or the answer to a prayer we have prayed too many times to count.
We wait.
Recently, my kids and I were driving to eat after church service. We got caught behind a combine on a back road to town.
My 2-year-old was in heaven talking about the big dinosaur truck in front of us. My husband and son were becoming impatient, their stomachs guiding their thoughts. My daughters were amazed by the size, claiming that a car could drive right under it.
I simply sat back and listened to the conversations happening around me.
To me, the combine was nostalgic. It took me back to my childhood.
I grew up in Stanley. Being stuck behind a farm machine of some kind on the way to or from town was a common occurrence. It never failed—on the days I overslept or was running late for curfew, I got caught behind a farmer.
There was nothing I could really do, except wait.
My mind has thought about this several times since that Sunday afternoon. How waiting for a combine to move or turn off could create a mix of emotions, depending on the person and even the day.
How waiting can be seen as exciting or excruciating.
And then a seed was planted for this article.
Harvest season is upon us. It is a staple to my childhood: the cutting down of corn stalks that had been our go-to hide-and-seek spots. The smell of soybeans in the air. The sound of combines and tractors in the field behind our house. The cutting and hanging of tobacco. The occasional inconvenience of a farm machine on the road.
The waiting.
We have had so many extreme seasons recently. Harsh frigid colds. Torrential downpours and flooding. Over-the-top heat.
When it is cold, we are waiting for the summer sun. When it is raining, we are hoping it ceases. And when the heat comes, we run for air.
Why?
Because we are all searching for the perfect season. The perfect feeling. We are waiting for the next.
Whatever next thing is going to bring us happiness.
Using houses as stepping stones. Upgrading vehicles. Trying to keep up with the people named “Jones.”
We are waiting for the perfect moment to have a baby. To take that risk. To step into that opportunity or experience.
We are waiting for the perfect weather. The perfect moment. The perfect situation.
Then, we tell ourselves, we will start planting seeds. Then we can harvest.
But what if a great harvest doesn’t come from perfect weather?
What if an abundant harvest and true bearing of fruit has nothing to do with the “Jones?”
Ecclesiastes 11:4-6 says that if a person waits for perfect weather, he will never plant his seeds. And if he is afraid that every cloud will bring rain, he will never harvest his crops.
As a mom, I want to teach my kids to enjoy the wait. To work hard in the off season. To use the rain, the drought, and the cold to build resilience and character.
It is so easy to grow impatient when we are stuck behind a combine and our stomachs are rumbling. It is so tempting to give up when the rain keeps washing away our seeds.
But the true beauty of the season of harvest isn’t just the outcome or the crops.
It is the process.
It starts with the planting of a seed.