My hundred twenty pounds was no match for the wheelbarrow full of wet gravel. It accelerated headlong down the slope from the road as I slipped and slid and twisted along behind, trying to influence it onto the bridge instead of into the swamp it crossed. The last time I had seen this path through the forest to the water’s edge it was a muddy, tangled mess, barely passable by a person, let alone a wheelbarrow. Now I easily rolled over foot bridges and hay-covered, smooth ground. I marveled at the transformation my sister had brought about in just a few months.

Rounding the last turn, however, I was surprised by the wash of emotion that swept over me here where the water lapped quietly at the feet of trees and grasses. The bank of this little inlet was the picture of peace and solitude. If there were a bench, I would have sat there for hours far from the noise and cares of civilization.

But back in civilization my husband had quite the opposite surprise. One little email interrupted the plodding busyness of everyday life and plans for his approaching retirement: it seems that Uncle Sam wants him to take another assignment! So once again we rank ordered the pilot training bases (did we actually put Texas first?!) and began to pray that God would communicate clearly where He wants us to go next spring. Ah, life on the farm and in the Air Force. Never dull!


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