From Soil To Soul

  • The ice rink…

    My father loved ice fishing, though he only participated in it as a young man, he talked of it often. He also loved ice skating. In my early teens, Dad decided one winter to make our garden area a skating rink.  He purchased a large role of heavy plastic. Cleared the garden of trash. Shaped…

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  • From the soil…to the soul

    Over the past few months, several have asked, “Where did From Soil To Soul come from? What does it mean?” While the seed has always been there from the beginning, the moment of planting happened on a spring morning in 1999.  I was sitting on the steps in the back of the milk parlor simply waiting for…

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  • The questions…if and when?

    In the house I grew up in there was a squeak in the hallway almost from the beginning. Of course, Dad was busy milking and farming so the squeak was very low on the repair list. It wasn’t a busted water pipe. In my teenage years that squeak became a real annoyance, because it announced…

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  • The smell of soil…

    My farmer friend Pat, whom I’ve known for over 50 years, shot me a text the other evening telling me they were going to be at my old family farm the next day. His family had purchased about 230 acres of the old place several years ago. He said if I wanted, I could come…

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  • Fences…

    By 1992, all the fences on our farm had been removed. There was still one fifteen-acre enclosed field for exercising the animals at our main barn, but the rest were gone. The cost of repair, changing necessity, and the larger implements used to till the soil all played into their removal. Then, at 3:00 a.m.…

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  • Crossing paths…

    Crossing Paths… Here in what is called the Midwest, we carry the distinction of being the “Crossroads of America.” In the fair state of Indiana, you can get on a highway that will take you north to Canada or south to Mexico. You can head east toward the Atlantic Ocean or west toward the Pacific.…

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  • Tired yes, retired, no…

    “Retired” is not a word you will find in the Scriptures.Transitions and seasons—those are everywhere. But the idea behind our English word retired? Not so much. So, I’ve been learning to think of myself differently. Not as retired but transitioning into another season of life. It’s not always easy, but little by little, it’s unfolding with…

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  • Straight Rows…

    I grew up believing straight lines were the mark of a good man. In our family, rows in the garden had to be straight. Corn rows in the field had to line up. Even the lawn told a story, clean, even stripes that let the neighbors know you cared. And I learned early, if you…

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  • A Foggy Morning…

    As a young boy on a dairy farm, it was my job to go into the pasture and round up the cows for milking. I had a vivid imagination and could turn just about anything into an adventure. I often had my trusty dog, “Lassie,” by my side. Yes, I had a dog named Lassie…didn’t…

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  • Can’t grow a crop in the bag…

    It’s planting season. No doubt about it…spring has sprung. The grass is deep green. Trees are leafing out. Daffodils, tulips, and lilacs are splashing color across the landscape. The birds are singing their hearts out. And right on cue, farmers and gardeners everywhere are… complaining. It’s too warm. It’s too cold. Too wet. Not enough…

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