Mamas are Like Farmers

Mamas are like farmers 🌾. In the little years we plow the field and plant the seeds and cut out (or uproot as the case may be) weeds and scare away crows, but we do not make the crop grow.

We can’t send the rain. We can’t make the sun shine. We can’t bring maturity to the hidden life of the seed. Only God does.

We have our part. But it is not controlling. There are times when crops fail, or seem to. There are lean seasons of the soul. There is always a lot of waiting.

What do we do while waiting? Psalm 40 says “I waited patiently for the Lord. He inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog. He set my feet on a rock.”

The man after God’s own heart spent time in the miry bog. He spent time in a pit of destruction and he had no song in his mouth. And he waited. How did he wait? Patiently.

We don’t know how long David was there. How long did he wait and how long must we wait to see the fruit of labor that God will bring. What matters is what he did there. He couldn’t make anything happen and he waited in hope and trust. And God did come. He put David’s feet on a rock and a new song in his mouth.