A Time for Everything 🌱🌾🌽

The year is 1986. In my minds eye, I can see her sitting in her rocking chair in the little brick house on the side of Mole Hill, pouring over the seed catalog. Maybe it was a distraction from the care of a stroke patient. Maybe it was Papa himself who selected the packet of Indian corn.

My great grandad Franklin Good suffered a stroke in ‘85 and lived until March of ‘86. His wife Stella and daughter Edith cared for him during his Illness.

Again I see her-this time in the garden. It’s the spring of the year. I know they were missing all the things that Papa always took care of at planting time, but she bravely carried on. One small row of Indian corn. Did she think about the new life in the family as she carefully patted the seeds in the ground? Down in the Valley below, a great nephew- Reuben Swope Rhodes III was born. On the other side of Mole Hill, a great niece was added to the family- just ahead of corn planting time. Miss Juanita Evelyn.

And once more I see her, the dreary days of November are here. The corn must be harvested and put away. The garden must be cleared off. They’d survived the first garden without Papa’s advice. And that’s something to be thankful for. Also reason to be thankful-another great niece is born- a dark haired child this time- Kendra Dawn…

Vanilla and Chocolate 😂 Juanita and Kendra
My Rhodes grandparents and RSR III, Juanita, Anthony, Kendra Christmas’87

37 years later, the extended Good family gathered at the same little brick house on Mole Hill to disperse the last items from the Estate. It was a beautiful day filled with bright sunshine and laughter and a few tears as we remembered the lives lived.

My Grandmother Margaret beside my pile of auction goodies. I know it was a hard day for her. Parting with family is painful. Aunt Edith was her baby sister.

I paid $3 dollars for Aunt Edith’s garden box. In that box I found the partially used packet of Indian corn seed. Will they grow? I’m out of nothing to try.

And as I lovingly pat the seeds in the ground, I reflect on the cycle of life… Eccl 3:1 There is a time for everything,and a season for every activity under the heavens: 2 a time to be born and a time to die,a time to plant and a time to uproot, 3 a time to kill and a time to heal,a time to tear down and a time to build, 4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,a time to mourn and a time to dance, 5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, 6 a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, 7 a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak,8 a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace. 9 What do workers gain from their toil? 10 I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. 11 He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.

Regardless of whether I harvest 37 year old Indian Corn this fall or not, may the seeds/examples of faith, truth, and godly living inspired by my greats multiply in my own life and grow to glorify God.

Happy planting,


2 thoughts on “A Time for Everything 🌱🌾🌽

  1. I resonate with your post as yesterday I spent a couple of hours sitting in my neighbours garage as her son and daughter in law helped her sell off all her late husbands tools. He was a kind man. I liked meeting his family and hearing about him and allowing my eyes to wander over all the old stuff. I listened as my neighbour remembered her husband and her decades in this town. Watching something like this unfold – the disassembling of a man’s treasures, the musings of a widow – gave me a strong sense of how fleeting life is, and how precious today is.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s