Listen and hear my voice; pay attention and hear what I say. When a farmer plows for planting, does he plow continually? Does he keep on breaking up and harrowing the soil? When he has leveled the surface, does he not sow caraway and scatter cumin? Isaiah 28:23-25
I don’t remember when I started writing poetry, but I know it predates our adoption story because, right around this time of year, I often find myself sifting through the same series of mental images.
It was Thanksgiving of 2016 when I put a poem into the world called Solace, in which I wrote about infertility. And one year later I received the Word of the Lord through my best friend to expect a miracle. And one year after that I was holding my daughter in my arms.
I no longer journal, but poems I’ve written in the throes of deep emotion often serve the same purpose when I look at them later—they remind me of God’s faithfulness through the tentpoles of life, evoking the terror of a specific moment. Or the longing, the storm, the joy, the anguish, the solace.
Over the past few weeks my poems have been influenced by Isaiah as I page through that book each morning. And this morning’s reading arrested me, pointing my mental gaze straight back to Solace. Reminding me of the seasons in my own life—of plowing, planting, weeding, harvesting, grinding. And of waiting.
Caraway is not threshed with a sledge, nor is a cartwheel rolled over cumin; caraway is beaten out with a rod, and cumin with a stick. Isaiah 28:27
Old poetry reminds me that He was with me then, as He is with me now. That it is His hand holding the plow that breaks up hardened ground in my heart. It is His feet that trod the grooves of my soul. His fingers that spread the seed when the proper season comes around. His back that protects the seed from predators and bends to pull threatening weeds. And His arms that wield the rod, or the stick, or drive the cartwheel—because He knows what is necessary to make me grow.
And He is growing me, day by day, year by year, keeping His promises, tending His field.
His fields. Because this good and faithful Farmer is tending so many fields, demonstrating day after day His goodness, His patience, His never-ending love, His creativity, His strength.
I imagine the great feast to come one day soon, where we are all together in His presence. All the children He gathered patiently over the millennia. All the fields He so carefully tended. A great multitude of crops He prepared for, planted, watched over, protected, harvested, and brought into His Kingdom, spread out before Him as a banquet.
All this also comes from the Lord Almighty, wonderful in counsel and magnificent in wisdom. Isaiah 28:29
And after Thanksgiving comes Christmas!
Heaven and Nature Sing is an Advent devotional collection of 28 short essays from nine strong female voices. The essays are grouped around four weekly themes—"heaven," "and," nature," and "sing." Over the course of each week, seven different perspectives on each topic overlap to create a total picture of the coming King.
I’m so proud to have been able to contribute to this little Advent devotional; even prouder that my mom also contributed a beautiful piece about celebrating Epiphany. I hope you’ll take a look, there’s still time to get it before Advent begins. Click here!