A time of the season

     

     

     Three summers ago, my two sons and I had some delightful experiences, as together, we took a sentimental journey east, visiting places of my childhood, introducing them to their Maritime roots.  

     A visit to their father's homestead was a must, though we knew the house and most buildings no longer existed.           

     The only remaining suggestion of the past was the lonely, old barn, reminiscent of better days. Today, as I received this story by email from my niece back east, it triggered my memory, and I became nostalgic once again. 

     Not knowing the tale's authorship, I cannot give rightful credit, but its beautiful analogy has a message for us all, especially those of us who are a bit weather-beaten. I, myself, have already turned a silver grey. 

     I apologize for its length, but, it is well worth the read, so please, read to the end. 

     

     I just wish to share these beautiful thoughts of encouragement with you, my blog readers.  

Old barns and old people   

     A stranger came by the other day with an offer that set me to thinking. He wanted to buy the old barn that sits out by the highway. I told him right off, he was crazy. He was a city type, you could tell by his clothes, his car, his hands and the way he talked. He said he was driving by and saw that beautiful old barn sitting out in the tall grass and wanted to know if it was for sale. I told him he had a funny idea of beauty. Sure, it was a handsome building in its day, But, then there's been a lot of winters pass with their snow and ice and howling wind. The summer suns beat down on that old barn 'til all the paint's gone and the wood has turned silver grey. 
     Now, the old building leans a good deal, looking kinda' tired. Yet, that fellow called it beautiful. That set me to thinking. I walked out to the field and just stood there— gazing at the old barn.

     The stranger said he planned to use the lumber to line the walls of his den in a new country home he's building down the road. He said, "You couldn't get paint that beautiful. Only years of standing in the weather, bearing the storms and scorching sun, only that can produce beautiful barn wood." 
     It came to me then. We're a lot like that, you and I. Only it's on the inside that the beauty grows with us. Sure, we turn silver, grey too, and lean a bit more than we did when we were young and full of sap. But, the Good Lord knows what He's doing. 
     

My nephew, Richard Robertson looking at the old barn of Nelson's homestead.

     And, as the years pass, He's busy using the hard weather of our lives, The dry spells and the stormy seasons, to do a job of beautifying our souls that nothing else can produce. And to think how often folks holler because they want life easy. 
     They took the old barn down today and hauled it away, to beautify a rich man's house. And I reckon some day you and I'll be hauled off to take on whatever chores the Good Lord has for us on the Great Sky Ranch. 
     And, I suspect we'll be more beautiful then, for the seasons we've been through here. And, just maybe, even add a bit of beauty to our Father's House.        

     "May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be."

— beulah