I’m sitting here watching our puppies play tug-of-war.  One will finally win out and then run around the house.  The temporary victory provides a comical segue from tug-of-war to keep-away.  It reminds me of years gone by.

Growing up, I spent quite a bit of time alone; whether it was walking the fields, playing in the backyard, helping our Granddaddy feed the animals across from the house.  I remember waiting to hear his truck coming down the hill after school.  It meant no less than about an hour or so worth of work (unless we were building or repairing fences and such).  Yet it was familiar.  It was simple.

I used to detest such simplicity.  As a young boy who traveled a good ways to the city for school, I longed to have the relationships and stories that my friends had.  They would walk the streets together hanging out.  Their weekend war-stories were laced with adventure, intrigue, mystery.  Just enough info to provoke the smallest bit of envy.

Now, however, I find myself missing those days after school – walking the fields, playing in the backyard, working the farm.  The simple fact of having land on which to roam is a forgotten luxury now that we’ve lived in the city for so long.  And thinking back, I can see that God was with us strongly during those (hard) times.  Of course, we didn’t attend church, and I’m pretty sure that I wasn’t “saved.”  But nonetheless, in hindsight, the atmosphere seemed more conducive to hearing God’s voice; away from the busyness, the noise, the hurry.

Shannon