An Invitation to Feast

Dear City Friend,

I hope and pray that this letter finds you amid your family well. You've been on my mind a lot lately.

All are well here. Eoin continues to grow. He walks much more than he talks which is a good trait to possess as he grows into a man. He looks forward to working with his daddy. Katie, my dear, grows, too. And she surely feels it. I see it mostly in the way that she moves — careful, but sure. She is seven months along, now. I find her often resting from her work, smiling, looking over her garden. She thinks it is beautiful. And it is. Eilidh is excited about her new "job." She feeds the chickens each morning before breakfast. She says that she doesn't like it when they peck at her toes.

On Walker Mountain , the blackberries are in full blossom. And if I didn't know that this is the merry month of May already, the sweet smell of honeysuckle vine in the breeze would tell me so. Early this morning, Eilidh and I found enough wild strawberries for breakfast. Have you ever had wild strawberries'? They are very small, maybe an eighth the size, when compared to the cultivated varieties. But they are about eight times as sweet as any strawberries you could buy in the supermarket. I do believe the only thing sweeter than a wild strawberry is the smile in my own daughter's eyes when I placed the first one of the season on her tongue.

How fondly I write of our life in the country. I hope that I don't appear proud about it. Honestly, it is in thankfulness that we go about our work and enjoy God's good gifts. We labor for Jesus, our great Lord and King, and it is in that same Lord that we find our rest and peace. We need to be thankful for not only that peace, but also for that high calling to work for His kingdom.

I hear you when you say that it is possible to keep your focus in the big city, but I must admit it sounds unnecessarily difficult. When things appear to be complicated, just go back to what you know and start from there. It's very much like what my dad often taught me growing up. When you're trying to solve a complicated problem, first try to make the problem smaller. Working for Jesus to build the kingdom doesn't have to be all that complicated. We just go hack to what we know, and that is to obey His commandments. One of the clearer of His commandments for us to understand ought to be to train up our children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. You tell me in your letters about the hard time you are having with raising a family separate from the world. Out here in the country, I believe, we can concentrate our attention better on these things that are truly important.

Your family too may need room to grow. I have yet to meet the person to say that his child is a real "blessing" to his career. Or, "Now that we have four children I'm sure to climb that corporate ladder." Won't you consider bringing your family out of that lonely, crowded place into the friendly countryside'? I would love to see you and yours grow wise amid strong in a more nurturing environment such as it is omit here.

I pray for your health. And especially your heart, that part of you that, I hope, secretly longs for freedom. It grows weaker and smaller the longer you stay, as you yourself tell me as often as we talk. I do, for your own sake, wish you were here. I know that it would do you well to conic omit of the big city to a better life where life is, at the same time, more simple and more rich. A healthy heart loves freedom and is at home where it has room to breathe and sing.

My own heart, I tell you, is free. And so are the hearts of the men, women, and children whom I work along side every day. We work in the shadow of our Creator and walk in the light of our Redeemer. In the country, we are more, not less, aware of our dependence upon God and fellow man. As faithfully as the seasons change and the sun rises and sets, we are reminded of creation and re-creation, of birth amid rebirth. I was reminded again, just the other day, of the pleasure I have been blessed with in my work. I was digging out the cellar and loading the truck for fill for the road. The radio was on in the truck and it seemed that every song was about hard times. As I was swinging my hammer, in the hot sun, breaking rocks into gravel and listening to songs about Folsom Prison and Andersonville and about rock breaking and hammer swinging in the hot sun and all kinds of mean, hasty things, I became a little more aware of the dignity of my labor and the freedom I love.

O how I pray that your heart would learn to sing. That it would learn songs that are full of memory and remembrances. Songs that have been passed down through our fathers before us. These are songs that I hope you may soon sing with us. You and your family could add harmony to the community. You could help us write another verse and add another voice to the amen. When God has blessed us so richly, how can our hearts keep from singing'?

Oh, that I had more time to write, for there is much more to say. But more than that, there is work to be done. The little ones are climbing all over me, now, amid the hens are getting into the garden. It is turning into just another beautiful day in the country.

Conic just as soon as you can.

Your friend,

Jonathan Daugherty