Cornstalk Solitude

Jeanna GLeave a comment

We’d been in a drought, and then we were inundated with storms. Ain’t that the way?!

The grass wasn’t growing and then, all of a sudden, it was up to mid-shin. 

So I finally got “a round tuit,” and mowed. 

And when I was done, I stood with my hands on my hips, sweating, and admiring my work, when I noticed one single, footlong blade of grass, proud as the day is long, standing straight up in the middle of my yard. It survived. 

My childhood church had a corn field next to it. I went to youth group one night in high school, and our youth pastor said we would finish our night with devotions outside. Unphased, we followed him to the middle of the field where we found one single cornstalk still standing after the harvest. We sat in a circle around the stalk and stared at it for a bit before chatting about it. 

What could this single remaining cornstalk tell us about life? 

Someone said it was the corn’s attempt at controlling its own destiny; it didn’t want to be like all the other corn by leaving home and becoming something else. 

Then someone countered, “It’s sad that it got left behind, never to see the world and reach its full potential. It actually wanted to live in community and contribute to society.”

The questions abounded: Did it see itself as a survivor? Did it beat the farmer only to find the success didn’t really matter? Or was it a symbol of resilience? Or of faith that all would be okay? Would it see itself as a wise old soul, there to oversee the next generation?

And then I raised my hand and offered, “Maybe it’s just happy to finally have some peace and quiet, and to be alone… as a uni-corn.” 

Rev Your Engines

Jeanna GLeave a comment

I was always up for action as a kid. Luckily for me, so were the kids who lived across the street: Hide-and-Seek during the day, Ghosts in the Graveyard at night, building tree forts in the summer and igloos in winter, or hunting for hermit crabs at the shore or blackberries at the park. 

Their stepdad liked to play with automobiles, and he let us race his go-karts around the field, and tagalong to Riverside Park to watch the stock car races where he worked on a pit crew. 

I just discovered a speedway exists in the county where I live, so my friends and I took our kids down one Friday night to watch the races. What I quickly remembered is you don’t just watch a car race, you feel it. The vibrations, the sounds, the smells are all so intense that you can’t focus on anything else. I wasn’t out there racing a car (even though I’d love to give that a try!), but I still felt like I was a part of the action.

I may not play like I used to, but I still like to explore what’s out there that can get my engine revving. 

Treat Your Neighbor

Jeanna GLeave a comment

After worship, the congregation heads down to the fellowship hall to snack and chitchat with each other. One Sunday, I spotted some macaroons on a cookie tray, and greedily picked through the assortment to grab three of them. I hadn’t had a macaroon in years, and that one cookie got me thinking about growing up next to my neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins. After her husband passed, she would have me over for chocolate macaroons and to chat in her kitchen. We would talk about what I was learning in school, what activities I was involved in, how her strawberry rhubarb was growing in the backyard garden, and other pleasantries. It was a sweet exchange; macaroons for me, and company for her. 

Our other neighbors would buy wrapping paper and citrus fruit to support our school and club fundraisers, but my visits with Mrs. Jenkins were just different. 

Nowadays, I know my neighbor’s names, and I shoot the breeze with a few of them, but at Christmas, I take cookies door-to-door, because a sweet treat just might be the difference we need.