Henry and Ellen’s work in the fields and gardens on their farm (present-day Country Dairy) tied them closely to nature; nature was as much a sanctuary for them during the week as attending church on Sunday. They came to know their Lord through creation as well as through sermons and Scripture reading. Worship was not just experienced on Sunday; it was their daily life.
Every day, Henry rose with the sun, watching it rise in the East, arc its way across the sky, and plunge into the western hills, an orange ball of fire, at day’s end. While guiding the plow behind workhorses Maude and Daize, he listened to birds chirping and singing. He watched the killdeer gliding to and fro on its spindly, sticklike legs and the hawks hovering high over the maple tree.
Augustine believed God created us for Himself, so that our hearts are restless until they rest in Him. Furthermore, God nurtures that longing—the nagging feeling that there’s something beyond the physical, the mundane, digging in the soil.
Often, in the seeming randomness of nature, God grants His children coincidences and glimpses of Himself and eternity to encourage and spur them along.
Nowhere is this more apparent than in the world of the avian wonders He created. Perhaps this is why humans have a unique relationship with birds, enjoying their colorful feathers and interesting quirks, but also envying them for their effortless flight and the free-throated ease of their singing.
“Hope is a thing with feathers that perches in the soul.” (Dickinson)
Ellen’s first encounter with birds was in the kitchen, in mid-March, on her first morning on the farm. Hinie had left early to do the milking. Eager to prove she could fix her man a proper breakfast, she rose, donned an apron over her new housedress, and set the sausages sizzling; however, glancing out the window at the bleak landscape, she suddenly felt lost and disoriented. What was she, a city girl, doing here on a farm? She was overwhelmed. At that moment, a flash of red flew past the window. A male cardinal perched on a tree branch, his she-bird a few branches up. A pair of cardinals, she thought, just like Henry and me. The sight of them lifted her spirits. Henry would be home soon. Everything would be alright. She started the coffee, flipped the sausages, and mixed the pancake batter. (ITG pg. 23)
A few weeks later, Ellen was hanging bedsheets on the clothesline when a black-capped chickadee landed on a branch overhead, trilling its heart out. “Oh, you beautiful little creature,” she breathed. Something about the plump little bird raised her spirits and gave her hope, as the cardinals had done earlier.
“She felt an awakening to nature, a deep longing within, as though God was speaking to her in the song of the chickadee, the budding of the trees, and the gentle breeze flapping the sheets on the line. In that moment, she knew there was a power beyond all she could see, hear, and sense around her. Hope flooded her spirit. (ITG pg. 27)
Months later, Ellen was faced with the hard reality of farm life when, one evening, a windstorm swept through and destroyed their entire cherry crop. Henry was devastated.
The following day, she was on her knees in the garden, picking beans for supper.
As she poured out her fears to her Lord, “Ellen felt a fluttering within, like a brace of birds longing to be free. Oh, how she longed to be free! Free from untimely windstorms, the unpredictability of rain, cows getting sick, poisoning the milk, not having enough money, from accidents waiting to happen, it went on and on. The fluttering increased, until, like a giant wave, her fears rose and overwhelmed her. She thought her heart would burst. Then, with a surge, the fluttering burst forth, and like a bird on the wing, her soul felt light and free. A stab of joy pierced her heart. Despite everything, Joy! Then a whisper from within, ‘…you will have sorrow, but your sorrow will turn into joy.’” (John 16:20) (ITG, pg. 56)
“It sings the songs without the words and never stops at all.” (Dickinson)
Later, after supper, she and Henry sat on the front porch, listening to the songs of the nocturnal birds. Ellen, filled with a newfound sense of peace and hope from her day’s encounter with her Lord, “kept all these things and pondered them in her heart.”
Note: The Introduction and Article I of this bi-monthly series can be found in the 5/30 and 6/15 issues of The Oceana Echo. Information about the memoir can be obtained from the author at janethasselbring23@gmail.com
