Harvesting

Before that first year, I’d filed “agriculture” in the card catalog of my head, in the same general place as “nature.” As in many things, I was so wrong. Farming, I’d discovered, was a great and ongoing war.” -The Dirty Life: A Memoir of Farming, Food, and Love, Kristin Kimball

First of all, let me explain this photo. The goal was a picture of me standing with two friends while we held the sorghum I had harvested, so I could, as they said, show my friends in America my hard work. After numerous attempts, this was the best I got. Apologies to Vida and Jennifer who smiled sweetly for a photo they weren’t actually in, and to Jocelyn who had to deal with taking a photo with a never before seen ipod, and to you, dear reader, for having to see it. Let’s call it creative and move on.

Believe it or not, I actually helped plant this sorghum in the summer. Christine and Acacia and I spent a day with our church, learning a little about digging and a little bit about cooking and a little bit about planting. And while we were there, the seeds were sown that over these last months have sprouted, grown, and become sorghum that will be ground into flour to support my church.

A couple of weeks ago, the time for harvesting came, and back into the garden I went.

Have I told you that I own a Leatherman? I use it so rarely that I usually need a refresher on how to open and close the blades, but still it makes me feel tough and gutsy to have it. I mention this because to harvest sorghum you need to use a knife, and I chose to carry my dependable and sharply under-used Leatherman. And about 2 minutes into the harvesting process, I managed to nick my thumb. I tried to shake it off and hide it from the other harvesters, but given the eagle eyes of watching children, everyone knew immediately, and I was sent to cover the wound in salt, wrap it in a thick piece of wet grass, and sit in the shade.

Thankfully, things improved after that, and I actually managed to harvest a few bundles, one of which I am proudly holding above. Then I had lunch. And tea. People here know how to work, and they know how to rest.

I’ve been thinking about the rhythms of seasons. How those with me for the planting aren’t here for the harvesting. Acacia back in Kenya, Christine back in America, and me still here, harvesting what they helped to plant. And of course that isn’t the whole story. Jocelyn and Vida and Jennifer, and many other church members were with me from beginning to end. But still, goodbyes and transitions are wearying, and I miss sharing simple celebrations with friends who leave.

That’s part of the rhythm of the life I’ve found in Sudan. As regularly as seasons come and go, people move in and out of our team and in and out of our Moru community. And I too move in and out, a fact I’m realizing again as I prepare to leave in less than a week for time in Uganda, the United States, and Kenya.

I recently enjoyed reading A Dirty Life by Kristin Kimball. In it, she describes her transition from being a writer in NYC to being a farmer. And she talks about how, from a distance, farming and agriculture seem simple, but that actually working the land usually feel more like a battle than a walk in the park. After my bloody thumb on the battlefield of sorghum harvesting, I see what she means.

Living out faith can be compared to gardening:  knowing that ultimately you can’t make anything grow, but you can plant seeds, and pour on the water, and wait for the time of harvest. Battling stones of sin and unbelief, and fighting against the weeds of pride. One thing I know, you can’t do it alone. At each season, you need others in this battle to plant and grow and see beauty come into places of brokenness. From a distance, (even if you’re just gazing at the life of your neighbor who seems to have it all together), this life of planting and harvesting can seem simple. But I’m sure for each of us, it often feels like a war.

I want energy to fight, and wisdom on when to plant, when to water, when to wait. And I am thankful that in the midst of a world that seems ever-changing, these seasons of growth and change continue to happen the world over. I’m thankful that, even though the goodbyes are hard, in every season of my life a community has come alongside me. And, though perhaps it’s not so spiritual, today I’m thankful for Skype, which allowed me to talk and pray with my former teammate Kim even though she was starting her day in Baltimore and I am ending mine in Mundri.

Finally, here’s a greeting from a friend in the field, who sends you peace (and says hi to my mom) as she harvests sorghum. So glad that this is place where I am able to plant and to watch things grow.

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