On the second day of bean walking, the sun rose with the same ferocity as the day before, promising nothing but heat, humidity, and the unwelcome company of sweat bees for Anna, Michael, and Liz. They met at the edge of the soybean fields, their silouettes casting long shadows in the early light, a silent acknowledgment of the day’s toil that lay ahead.
As they walked the familiar rows along the Indian Creek, the air thickened with heat. It wasn't long before the monotony of the task set in, the endless sea of green around them punctuated only by the persistent thrum of insect wings.
It was Liz who broke the rhythm of their silent work. She stooped to clear a clump of weeds and discovered a crumpled, faded piece of paper. "Phyllis," she read aloud, the name written in a hand from a different time. The note, though battered by weather, spoke of love and faith, a timeless message that resonated with the three friends.
Their eyes turned together to the old house that stood guard over the fields. Its windows were broken, a testament to the many storms it had faced. The note must have slipped from one of those forlorn gaps, they reasoned, carried by the wind to land at their feet.
As the day’s work continued, the heat relentless as ever, they found their thoughts returning to Phyllis. Had she, too, felt the oppressive heat as they now did? Had she, too, found comfort in her faith? The connection to the past, to Phyllis, and her note, brought a new dimension to their labor.
When the sun reached its zenith and their shadows shrank beneath them, they found a shared strength. The message on the paper was a balm against the harshness of the day, a reminder that their work in the fields was part of a larger, enduring tapestry of life and faith.
By the time they made their way to the creek for their end-of-day ritual, the water seemed to welcome them more warmly. The note from Phyllis had changed something intangible in the air. They jumped into the creek, not just to find relief from the heat but to honor a tradition of hard work and faith that linked them to the generations before. The water, like the message, was a reminder that even the most grueling tasks could be sanctified by love and the human spirit.
Resolution: To prove my love for Jesus, I will exercise charity and mildness toward all.
Spiritual Bouquet: "A new commandment I give unto you: that you love one another as I have loved you" (John 13, 34).
