Though my husband no longer works the ground of his family farm, he was raised with that amazing soul of a farmer.

He tells of days in high school when he and his brother would workout with their football team, come home and dig post holes for the day, and head back into town in the early evening for their second round of practice.  He speaks of the fulfillment that comes with seasons of hard and relentless work.  When we visit the farm, he still wakes to the gentle patter of rain, heads to the window and opens it just a crack.  Sitting on the edge of the bed, he takes in the midnight fragrance of clean, the beauty of lightening against the darkened sky.

He may work as an IT Director but he has the soul of a farmer.

I must confess that my impulsive nature wants to push him out of consistency and into adventure.  You know, create at least a little blip on that straight line.  But I have learned a wisdom about this perfect-match-of-a-man to my soul.

Mark didn’t know everything he was getting into when he asked me to marry him (and truth be told, I didn’t know all that I carried into it either.)

My history has brought with it sparks, impulsivity, drama, and the heart of a fighter.  I don’t want to paint myself as all fury and no peace.  I have both.  I both longed for and feared love.  Love had proved me wrong in my childhood years of abuse.  Like Gomer with Hosea, love was risky, scary, and the more I loved the more out of control I felt.

So when I have days (like yesterday) when I am frustrated with my future, hard on myself and sick of being needy – He responds to my guilt ridden tears with a gentle smile and a sparkle in his eye and says

“Honey, it’s just a season.”

And he knows about seasons.

And just as gently as he stated it, he moves on with life, much better at accepting the bad things with the good.  A calm steadiness that is rock solid in the midst of difficulties.

You see, with all my ups and downs, with all that healing would entail ~ God knew I would need a man who knew how to suffer-long with love.  

A man who was strong enough to handle the load and yet gentle enough to care for my soul. 

A man who could stay up all night and face loss and still rise with hope in the morning. 

A man who understands how to sew in one season, tend it faithfully through the next, and have no guarantee on the harvest.   

Love suffers long and is kind.

So… God gave me a farmer.