GROWING FIELDS

By Shauna V. Brown 

Growing up I lived next to a large vacant field, that is except for the stink bugs, grasshoppers, red ants, spiders, crickets, butterflies, meadowlarks, sparrows and such. To a child it meant adventures, discovery, fun and learning. I frequently tagged along with my older brothers as they courageously ventured even further into the field and beyond. I observed as my brothers frequently disrupted ants beds, smashing and decimating their living quarters. It was instantly apparent one could not wait around to watch the unheavel of the ant family, as I learned quickly their hot and biting revenge. Snakes scared me, and field mice, well, it always was an adventure.

On the edge of the field was a railroad track and on occasions a freight train would travel upon it. It was an old steam powered train which chugged and puffed smoke as it slowly traveled behind our home.   

        My parents had cautioned my brothers and I about people who were known to hitch a ride upon trains illegally. They counciled us to be ever careful and aware.Warning us that when we heard the train to quickly return home. Mama called the illegal travelers Hobos.  My young imagination always took flight as I thought some of the men might be murderers, drunkers, or somebody ready to kidnap a ‘darling little girl like me.’  So whenever I heard the train coming I would quickly stop what I was doing and run for home.  I took my parent’s warnings seriously. But as I watched my older brothers I realized that most of the time they didn’t set to running home with the first sound of the train, as I did.  By their example, I soon became more relaxed and discovered that I wanted to see, for myself, up close, if there truly were those types of people riding on the train. So, on a few occasions I remember hearing the whistle, seeing the puffs of smoke and instead of running for home I crawled and hid myself in the tall grass and peered over an embankment to observe. My heart pounded hard, a sense of guilt flashed through my mind as well. I even could hear my mother’s cautionary words in my head. ‘Come home.’  

        Perhaps this was my first introduction to “living on the edge,” or at least the embankment, and in all reality I felt uncomfortable for not listening, or following direction. In fact,upon one of my close encounters when I stayed behind to watch the train.   I saw a man jump from the train and start climbing the ridge. I lay there frozen and dug in closer to the ground and prayed as hard as possible. I stayed there for a long time. 

         Gratefully, throughout my life I tried to follow the counsel, warnings and directions given from my parents and leaders. Mother frequently shared stories, vivid stories that clearly helped us envision those who made unwise choices and decisions. We also knew that she constantly prayed that each one of us would strive for the better.  

Over the years I have observed as well, some of my friends and acquaintances who didn’t listen to the whistles, warning bells, didn’t watch for the puff of smoke, didn’t take cover, or run for home, but were enticed to eat, drink and be merry. Some sadly jumped upon a train they thought was a free ride only to discover they would have a price to pay, sometimes a costly price. Regretfully, some of them being bound to a life they never imagined in the first place.  

Life is a field of learning. There are stink bugs, butterflies, crickets, mosquitoes and meadowlarks all seeking for our attention and wonder.  We choose were we want to be and who we want to be with. Our choices will define us ultimately.  

        I am thankful for knowing that a loving Father in Heaven has provided each of us with warning signs, signals, promptings and cautionary words. He has provided us a perfect pattern and plan for us to follow enabling us to be happy here and now. He is desirous for each of his children to feel of His unconditional love and peace.  Gratefully, he has furnished us the way, the truth, and the light, as well as the way back home. I am grateful for a Savior, who is willing to lift us up and wash away the dirt from hiding deep within the grass.