Wheat Fields

Joseph A. Byrne

Description

Wheat Fields is the story about the social trauma of change brought on by the introduction of the mobile combine harvester. On another level, the story is about the very meaning of life. Of particular interest is the concept of God. How does God enter into our lives? How does God communicate with us? Do we have the skill to recognize situations where God is trying to communicate with us? Would we recognize Divine Intervention even if we saw it happening?
Wheat Fields suggests the best chance to encounter God is in the ordinary circumstances of life. The book demonstrates real examples of Divine Intervention in a very ordinary occupation, namely, wheat farming. The question to us is this: when God appears in our lives or offers to help, do we respond to it? An even more basic question is whether we even recognize that God is there offering to help us. I invite you to enjoy a very good story, and to celebrate the extraordinary dimensions of life that are demonstrated both here and in the very ordinary circumstances of your own lives.

Sujets

• Philosophie
• Éthique et morale
• Religion
• Christianisme
• Ethique et morale
• Good
• Evil
• Philosophy
• Philosophie et théologie

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 21 février 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781456602703
• Langue: English

Extrait

Joseph A. Byrne
 


All rights reserved
Copyright © 2011 by Joseph A. Byrne
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ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-0270-3
FIN 26 04 11
 


This book is dedicated to my late father. He was a man who tried very hard for a better world.
 



 
INTRODUCTION
On one level, Wheat Fields is a story about the social trauma of change, of revolution. In this case, it is the story of the changes brought on by the introduction of the mobile combine harvester. The combine would replace the stationary threshing machine, which had been in common usage on the farms for many years now. Threshing was the accepted means of harvesting wheat.
Replacement of the threshing machine also displaced the need for large workforces on the farms that, heretofore, were needed to harvest wheat. This displacement caused severe strain on the known and common practices of the farm, especially the need for large families to bring in the harvest. It also lessened the need for cooperation among farm neighbours who, heretofore, had to pool labour and help each other as a matter of survival.
On another level, the story is about the very meaning of life. Of particular interest is the concept of God. How does God enter into our lives? How does God communicate with us? Do we have the skill to recognize situations where God is trying to communicate with us? Would we recognize Divine intervention even if we saw it happening?
The book postulates the best chance to encounter God is in the ordinary circumstances of life. It is in the ordinary, among the poor and oppressed, that we would expect to find God. Put another way, would we expect that God would be primarily present or concerned where a person is seeking to make their twelfth, or fourteenth billion dollars?
The book demonstrates real examples of Divine intervention in a very ordinary occupation, namely, wheat farming. The question to us is this. When God appears in our lives, or offers us help, do we respond to it? An even more basic question is whether we even recognize that God is there offering to help us.
In this respect, the ability to recognize the intervention of God—yes, even the presence of God, is a skill that needs to be learned and honed. It is a bit like learning a new language, or even learning to decipher an extinct language, trying to understand the words and symbols used.
In order to begin to understand the process, it is necessary to understand the use of terms like supernatural . That word seems to convey the premise of a distant God, of a mysterious God. The presence of God in our lives should rather be expected by us as something natural. It should be expected as though it was a natural function of life, much the same as breathing is accepted as natural. We should accept that God is there. We should expect that God will become visible to us. We should expect to find God in the midst of our good works.
How hard should we work at recognizing the presence of God; the real presence, not the imagined or wished-for presence? The answer, of course, is that we should simply work hard in our good works. This is our invitation to God, our life-long prayer.
Does God not call on us to be the very manifestation of good in the world? In this sense, one can substitute the word good for God . Can’t we choose to be the force of good in our own lives and in the lives of others? Is it not natural science that we can be the personification of God as good in the world? Can this not happen, through our work in the very ordinary circumstances of the world?
Yet this book has no intention of being preachy. It does not even wish to mention words such as God, or Divine intervention.
I invite you to enjoy a very good story, and to celebrate the extraordinary dimensions of life that are demonstrated both here and in the very ordinary circumstances of your own lives.
May you find peace and happiness in your own lives, and may you find it even in the very hard throws that life can give. And one further wish for you is that you may live to see God.
 



 
WHEAT FIELDS
It’s a beauty,” the young man declared as he looked down from his perch high above the others. “I can’t believe it’s finally here,” the man continued as he started to climb down, hoping the others were as impressed with it as he was.
I’ll bet it is worth more than my house,” one of the men on the ground called at him. This caused the young man to smile slightly. He hid his chin in his jacket to try to conceal it.
“It’s worth more than mine, that’s for sure,” the young man called back as he lowered his left leg onto the top rung of the second ladder.
“Watch your step,” another called up. “That shiny new paint is slippery,” he continued just as the young man slipped a little, caught himself on the hand rail, which caused him to flex his arm muscle. He tried hard to hold on as his body swung out over the ground below.
“Nice catch,” the man called at him from the ground as the other strained to hold on. “Come down. It’s safer on the ground,” the man continued as everyone who had gathered there laughed a little, mostly from the relief they felt as their young colleague held on without falling.
As he said it, a small truck pulled slowly into the driveway, pulling behind it an enormous grain head that was easily forty feet in length.
“What the heck is that for?” one of the men stated softly as he shook his head.
“That’s a combine head,” Emus said. Emus, the young man who had been at the top of the combine was now standing with his feet safely on the ground.
“Where do you plan to use it?” Jig asked, relieved he was no longer directing his cat calls upward.
“Around here,” Emus answered simply. “We’ll use it around here. Don’t you think the combine is big enough to handle it?” Emus continued.
“Oh, it’s big enough alright,” Jig answered. “It’s not the size of the combine I’m worried about. You’ve got lots of machine there. It’s the small fields and narrow roads that worry me.”
As he said it, an old man slowly walked around the corner of the barn. His head was lifted as he shuffled forward, his eyes glued to the shiny new paint on the combine. As he approached the machine he stopped at once, raised his cane and said, “you know the most money you will make with that combine is from the work you do on it every morning, inspecting it, looking for trouble, and fixing before you go to the field.
This caused Jig to laugh. “Why? Have you run a machine like this before?” he asked with a scoff.
“The machines are all about the same,” the man replied simply. “They all break down. But it’s the breakdowns during the heat of a good combining day that cost you the most money. You have to head those off.”
With that, a period of silence set in. Emus continued with his inspection of the enormous machine. Jig moved from place to place looking at the machine, checking behind the fender here, and a panel or two there, but not showing any real interest in the machine. The old man, on the other hand, slowly and methodically, checked out the heart of the machine. He was not interested in size, capacity or the like. Rather, he checked the threshing unit, the separation system, the grain elevation system, and such. Finally, he made his pronouncement.
“It’s quite a machine,” he started, then quickly added, “but, you know, these machines have not really changed that much in terms of basic design. The biggest thing they did was they took the old threshing machine, made it mobile, then they combined the operations of cutting the wheat straw and threshing it. The rest is the result of a whole lot of field testing.”
“Is that right?” Jig mocked. “But what would you really know about it?”
The old man did not reply. He merely continued with his examination of the threshing unit. It was Emus who was next to talk. “Tell us about it. Would you tell us how you started combining?”
The old man slowly moved along the side of the machine before sitting on the rim of one of the large tires. Beside him sat an ornery looking block of wood that the men had used earlier as a base for their jack. After sitting there a while, he said simply, “it is hot. If a little wind comes along, it might turn into a real good combining day.” Then he got to the heart of his thoughts. “I like the look of this machine,” he continued. “I like the simplicity of it. It reminds me of the old Massey Clipper. The Clipper was a simple pull-type combine, with few moving parts. When you went to the field with it, it worked, and it worked all day. It had a five-foot cut, and a threshing cylinder that was almost five feet wide as well. It had a straw walker system that made it very hard to plug.”
“Well, this is no Massey Clipper,” Jig chided.
“I hope it is,” the old man replied quickly. Jig was left without any understanding of why the old man had said that.
Finally, it was Emus who said, “Jig, let up a little. I want to hear what the old man has to say”.
There was a considerable silence before the old man said any more. Then, he started.
“In 1934, I bought my first combine, with my brother, God rest his soul.” With that the old man paused. It seemed that even after all these years, he could not think about his late brother without breaking down. “When we bought that first combine, the immobile threshing machine was king. Many of the old timers thought that a mobile combine was not a functional tool for their farms.
When we brought that first combine home, a combine that was bought with hard earned money,