For years, the farmer has not walked through January without
his soulmate. But she passed on six months ago, and today I watch as his green
tractor ploughs a lonely furrow in the field over the road. Though loss leaves
a gaping hole in the soul, the dailiness of routine demands keep him grounded,
perhaps keep him sane.
Jesus promised never to leave nor forsake us. Nobody else
can make such a promise and keep it. We are in his powerful, loving hands. He
rides beside the farmer in that field – up and down, up and down, mind-numbing
and yet demanding his attention. Distracting his thoughts. Filling his hours.
We have turned the corner into a new year. The remnants of
last year may hang loose, in tatters, around us, but in the air, there is a
sniff of hope. Hope that does not disappoint. Assurance that whatever this year
may hold, Jesus never leaves, nor forsakes, us.
The sun shines from a pale blue sky. The winds of yesterday
have abated.
Happy New Year.
