Noonday Notes, Issue 5

Farming is full of gambles. Like casting your bread upon the waters.

You watch the radar, check the hourly forecast obsessively, stare at the crops like they will tell you something, pretend you can read clouds like the girl in Twisters—and then decide: Do I harvest everything before the rain? What if it doesn’t rain? Do give it one more day?

This week, I made some good calls. I harvested twice on Tuesday ahead of the supposed storm. But I also took a chance on the melons—left a few that didn’t quite look ripe, hoping they could get through some rain and be ready…later. Then the skies opened early Thursday morning, and what could’ve been perfect turned waterlogged. At least I think. That’s the thing about melons: they don’t wait for you to be ready, and you don’t know until you cut into them.

It’s such a familiar pattern. We do what we can, with the best judgment we have. We risk holding back in the hope of something better. Sometimes it pays off. Sometimes we miss the mark.

It’s just food, really—just a few melons. But the practice of this teaches something deeper: how to take in information, trust your instincts, and still be okay when it doesn’t go your way. Because it will go both ways. 

You’ll get no rain when you expected a downpour (like Wednesday), and a flood when you needed a drizzle (like Thursday).

Scripture meets us here, too. Ecclesiastes 11:4 says,

“He who observes the wind will not sow, and he who regards the clouds will not reap.”

There comes a moment when you stop reading the skies and just act—knowing the outcome isn’t guaranteed, but the learning is. Conditions may never be perfect, but you go for it anyway. Life in a fallen world is largely unpredictable.

So here’s to the imperfect bets we place. The melons we miss. The rains that come too fast. The dog that shows up to be ours. And the quiet courage (or craziness) it takes to keep farming (and living) anyway.

Read the rest of Noonday Notes here.