I Won't Worry 'Bout a Thing (And Other Harvest Lies)

Don't Worry 'Bout a Thing from Kim Fritzemeier on Vimeo.

Free like a bird in the big blue sky 
Not a cloud or a care for a million miles
I won't worry, worry 'bout a thing.

God loves me and He loved me first

He rescued me when I was in a lurch

And I won’t worry, worry about a thing.

To the left I’ll fly, fly, fly

To the right, I’ll glide, glide, glide.
No, and I won't worry, worry 'bout a thing!
Gonna scoop down low, low, low
Gonna soar up high, high, high.

And I won’t worry, worry about a thing.

 ***

I've chosen an unlikely theme song for harvest this year. Or maybe it chose me.

I have been singing snippets of the catchy, Calypso-style tune ever since I heard it at Kinley's VBS program June 10. This past weekend, two little harvest helpers sang with me and even added in the actions during a trip to the grocery store for more harvest supplies.

"No, Grandma! It's like this," Brooke insisted when I didn't comply and do the actions, too.

It's a great message. But, if I'm honest, I've had a little more trouble actually believing it.

I'm in good company.

 

On the Monday after a fun-filled week of VBS, when Kinley was hesitant about returning to day camp, I asked her, "Don't you remember that song? The one that talked about letting your worries fly, fly, fly away?" She just looked at me with sleepy eyes, but maybe she'll remember the next time she's anxious.

 

I'm great at giving advice about not worrying. But then we got home from Manhattan.

Randy went to the combine to do a test cut to see if we could get Wheat Harvest 2018 underway (way back on June 12). I thought I'd get a phone call from him, telling me it was a "go" or "no go." But I didn't expect the one I got.

"Well, we've had a disaster," he said.
My stomach clinched, and my heart went into my throat.

"A raccoon went through the radiator, the fan and the belts," he said, the frustration practically making the phone lines quiver.

"Can I do anything?" I asked
"No, I've been on the phone to Case, and I'm waiting for someone to call me back."

So what did I do? I worried. I asked God, "Why?" And I worried some more.

Maybe I should have had a week of VBS ... especially if the theme was Shipwrecked: Rescued by Jesus.

Though we're in landlocked Kansas, I needed my own sea rescue ... in a sea of amber waves of grain without a way to harvest it.

Thankfully, Case had all the parts. They spent all day on Wednesday, June 13, fixing the combine. It was a humid day, and we would have had to start late and quit early if we'd gotten to cut at all, making my farmer a little more relaxed than he'd have been otherwise.

We got a call about 7 o'clock that evening, saying that by the time we got to Hutchinson, the combine would be ready to go.

I would like to say I quit worrying then. I know the Bible says not to worry. However, knowing it and practicing it are two different things. There had already been two fatality accidents on Kansas highways that day. What if someone wasn't paying attention to the flashing lights on our slow-moving vehicle and crashed into Randy?

What if? What if? What if? My mind could come up with plenty of disaster scenarios.

After a few miles on busy U.S Highway 50 into the setting sun, Randy turned off onto country roads. Two hours later, he called me to pick him up at the field. He was home. None of the "shipwreck" imaginings actually happened. I said a "thank You" prayer and may have hummed that VBS song under my breath yet again.

We started cutting wheat on Flag Day June 14. Or so we thought.

It took awhile for Randy to get the combine adjusted. He was rolling ... and then, there was another breakdown ... and another call to Case.

Jill and Eric and the girls had planned to come out for a harvest weekend. We warned them that things were not in full swing, but they decided to come anyway. Though the rides had more stops and starts than a trip down a traffic-light-littered Main Street, they did a little riding.

And then we shared our bad luck with them. Randy has been excited to take the girls to a neighbor's enchanted forest he's constructed in a shelterbelt. Randy even started his own mini version across the road from our house (more on that later). However, the early Saturday morning walk had an unexpected encounter with all kinds of wildlife. A deer dashing and crashing through the shelterbelt sent Kinley running into her mom's arms.

And then, when we were almost to the end of the path, we made our acquaintance with a skunk. Brooke got the worst of it, but Kinley and I also had to take our turns ridding our bodies of the stink. Jill had a whiff of it, too, where she'd picked up Brooke to carry her after the "incident."

For the record, tomato juice is not the best skunk deodorizer. Hydrogen peroxide, baking soda and Dawn dishwashing soap are our recommendation. Thankfully, most of the odor was below the knees. After repeated scrubbings (and about an hour and a half later), we were deemed odor-free.

Since I did not get a photo of our wildlife adventures, Kinley drew a picture of our enchanted forest encounter. (Click on the photo to make it bigger and see the detail.) I hope we are not forever known as the smelly grandparents.

It literally took until the evening of June 16 to get the combine running correctly. Both Randy and I are dreading the bill from Case. The repair guy has practically become part of the family, he was out at our farm so often in the past week.

The other Randy, the Case repair guy, joined us for a harvest picnic Saturday evening. (He was offered meals at other times, too, but that was the first time he accepted the invitation.)

I think the girls enjoyed the picnic more than the guys, who were at peak frustration by that time.

Randy got the perfect Father's Day gift on Sunday, June 17. It was literally our first full day of cutting since our first attempt on Tuesday.

Bottom photos are by Kinley and Brooke

He had some good helpers before they left to drive back home. (And to stop on the way home for new tennis shoes for Brooke, whose shoes had a pungent reminder of her trip to the farm.)

The girls were the perfect antidote to a frustrated farmer.

Before the ill-fated walk in the "Enchanted" forest.

They love the kitties just as much as Grandpa does.

 

They got to encounter less smelly wildlife in our hired man's vegetable garden on Sunday before church. Bunnies are definitely better than skunks!

They soared on the backyard swing, where Brooke - our little daredevil - was delighted with "under doggies" and "touching the sky."

I really have that had the "don't worry" song as an "earworm" for a week now. And I think it was probably a good thing - even when I don't always successfully follow its message. Maybe I should get the CD. The theme song says:

Through every storm of life

I know You’re by my side.

So I am holding on to Your promises

You are the God who holds

My future, all my dreams

So I am holding on

You’ll never let go of me.

 We hope it's smoother sailing this week!

The Important Things

(Photo taken at Botanica, Wichita, Kansas)

God wants you to know that your remedy for anxiety is the question: "Will this matter a year from now?" All too often, you get so involved in things that you look at life through a microscope. Amplifying manifold, an invisible speck becomes an insurmountable mountain. Put down the microscope and imagine yourself a year from now looking back at today. Does it really matter?

It was another Message from God via Facebook that stopped me in my tracks.

I admit it: I'm a worrier.

I know the Bible tells me I shouldn't be. And I'm working on it. Truly I am, even though I sometimes think it's something I will be working on until my dying day. Randy tells me if I don't have something "real" to worry about, I come up with something.

Like a kaleidoscope, life shifts and changes quickly. So how about that Message from God? Will what I'm worried about today really matter a year from now?

It was a message I tried to share with some high school graduates this past Sunday. I was asked to do the program for the youth dinner at Stafford United Methodist Church.

What can a woman of a certain age share with a couple of 18-year-olds who are ready to kick off the dust of a little town and find their wings?

Believe me, I added that niggling worry to my list of things to contemplate last week. (Hey, maybe I'll call my musings "contemplations" instead of "worries." On second thought, I don't think semantics will fool God.)

But I rediscovered an essay I hoped would provide an illustration for the graduates, as well as serve as a reminder for the rest of us. And, somehow, I thought I might be on the right track when the Message from God popped up on a friend's Facebook page.

Here's the essay. You may have heard it before, or it may have been one of those chain emails you deleted. But it seemed to be the right "fit" for the occasion:

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls.

He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls.

He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous “yes”.

The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

“Now,” said the professor, as the laughter subsided, ” I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life.

"The golf balls are the important things in life. Your God, your family, your children, your health, your friends, and your favorite passions: things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.

"The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, and your car.

"The sand is everything else: the small stuff.

“If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you.

"Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.

"Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean house and fix the disposal.

"Take care of the golf balls first - the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand."

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented. The professor smiled. “I’m glad you asked. It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend.

Obviously, I had to revise the message just a little bit. These graduates don't have children yet. They aren't too worried about medical appointments or cleaning the house or mundane tasks like that.

But, as for any program, you hope it's a reminder for other people in the audience, too. And even the person giving the program could learn a thing or two.

To remind them of the message, I gave them a golf ball in a small glass candle holder. Maybe they'll put it on a shelf in their dorm room. Maybe they'll toss it in a drawer.


But I hope they'll remember the basic message: Make time for the important things in life.

I also gave each of them a coffee mug to remind them to take time for friends. I have no idea whether either of them drink coffee. But I figure they like candy. So I also included this message:

When you are in a CRUNCH
Between and beTWIX a rock and a hard place
Feeling as far away as the MILKY WAY
Remember that friends are priceless
Worth even more than
100 GRAND.


I told them to remember that friends at the church would always be there to pray for them, celebrate with them, cry with them, be with them.

I hope they take me up on the offer.

So, did the program giver learn anything along the way?

Put down the microscope and imagine yourself a year from now looking back at today. Does it really matter?

(Photo taken at the Wichita Garden Show)

The kaleidoscope shifts and changes. The pattern is unpredictable. But there's beauty in the midst of change.

Huh ... maybe the program giver DID learn something after all.