What the photograph misses is the visible movement of the breeze across the field, the symphonic dance of millions of seeds sown four months ago, now multiplied ten fold or twenty-fold, even a hundredfold. Harvest thanksgiving will come once the harvest is in, which always seems to suggest a certain lack of faith, a hard-headed wait and see rather than that hopeful risk that trusts the rhythms of nature and the one to whom we pray "Give us this day our daily bread."
And then my mind turns to another harvest, the fruitfulness of a life careful of the good, alert to moments when kindness is called for, sensitive to injustice and the wounds of others, so that we will neither be complicit by silence, nor ever think such occasions are 'not our concern.'
"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Galatians 6.9. I would like to leave my tyre tracks in the harvest fields of our world.
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