Prayer For A Farmer

What did I have to be thankful for?

- Joann Lower

Thanksgiving has special meaning for farmers. No one knows better all the work that goes into bringing food to the table each year. On his farm two miles south of Buffalo Center in Iowa my grandfather’s corn grew tall, his soybean fields emerald green. When he stood at the head of the table Thanksgiving Day to say the blessing, aunts, uncles and cousins all held hands. “We thank you, God, for the smell of the soft earth; for fat, ripe ears of corn; and for the hands around this table that have brought in this year’s good harvest.”

One year, when I was a young girl, I squeezed my mother’s hand extra hard. I wasn’t feeling thankful at all. All I felt was scared.

Just a few days before, my life was full of blessings. I had a mother who listened to all my cares. A father who gave the best hugs in the world. And now I had something more to look forward to. “Very soon,” Mom told me when I came down for breakfast that morning, “you’re going to have a new baby brother or sister!”

“I’m going to be a big sister!” I cried. Mom took my hand, Dad took the other and the three of us danced around the kitchen. Then Daddy swept me up into one of his champion hugs. We’d never been so happy!

Dad went out to the fields to pick the corn. Like all our neighbors, he was racing to harvest it all before the winter snows. In the afternoon, Mom and I were at home when our neighbor pounded on our door: “There’s been an accident!” he cried. “Call an ambulance!” Dad was hurt.