Baling a pasture, I blew a hydraulic seal on a primary opening and closing ram (as soon as the service truck pulled out of the field). I saw the leak, tried to push how much further I could get before it became a full-on issue: two bales.
I was broke down, tools and medium of transport taken. What did I have to do?
Wait.
And so I did, but not just that. I prayed. I prayed for people on my mind: some known and only a name. I rested against the sides, in the thin north noon-shadow of bales listening to and sensing wind around.
Blessings in disguise: the truck was headed to John Deere. Rather than needing a second trip for seals: they were pulled and waiting when truck arrived. I was able to eat my lunch—slowly and in peace; and rather than praying amid distractions of cab, baler, PTO, and all the rest: I was able to close my eyes and pray naturally in the peace of hay bale shade, wind, and living empty of open space.
I didn’t stress. The work will get done when it gets done. The clover is only better curing.
Rather than expect the world to abide by my intent; I amend my own to its.
It’s easier that way. Peace weathers the bumps, surprises, blown seals and all the rest.
It’s all a blessing, in its own way, through own means: if we slow and allow to be.
So that’s what I did. I am grateful for the pause gifted of a breakdown; for the time to pray, the time to write; and so I gift it back; share beyond myself—something for another to find amid pause and break and maybe needed silence and reflection.
It’s all a blessing when slowed and allowed to be.