Abundance of Life

They say God loves us through each other. I don't know about that. It's not something I've felt I could rely on. Today the Kansas wind dries the sweat off my face before it's formed. "By the sweat of your brow," Bob, my father-in-law reminds me. We certainly have sweated these last years, working the farm, trying to make it yield. Dan's parents couldn't do it by themselves, and I can't imagine leaving them. And yet, the tie that's bound me has become a burden I'd rather loosen and set down.

For 23 years I was married to the finest man. He was strong, calm, intelligent, keen sense of humor, and body lean and agile. Even after all those years, we were still madly in love. Then one day he just didn't come home. I found him pinned under a tractor where it had tipped over. I'd always worried, but nothing had ever happened. I worried about nothing, he would say. But there that tractor was, with Dan dead underneath. "This too shall pass," my mother-in-law's mantra.

Today, my entry into Heaven or Hell arrived. There on the hall table, when I came in from morning chores, was a letter from Petersen * Jorgen * Developers, Inc. I had never thought about selling the farm before my husband died, but I haven't thought about much else recently. As I sit in my room in the evenings after supper, Bob and Ann worry. Books by my bedside, I don't know what I'm reading. Cards worn from shuffling, what have I been playing? CD's litter the floor by the window, nothing's in the player. And now this letter sits in my hands. "We are prepared to negotiate a fair price for the land, livestock, house, outbuildings, and all equipment." Sell the farm? Have plenty of money? My mind flies with the thought of freedom, to go, to do, to see, to live again.

"Carol?" Ann calls through the bedroom door. "Are you alright in there? Supper's on the table in a few minutes."

"I'll be right there, Mum," I answer. I stuff the letter under my pillow and hurry out to the bathroom to wash my face and hands. My face shows I've been crying. Had I made any sounds? Had Ann heard?

"There you are, Miss!" says Bob, and laughs when I come downstairs. Dear Bob, always smiling, always finding something to twinkle on about. "We thought you'd about given up on eating this evening, and I was looking forward to having your share."

I laugh with him. "Pop, you wouldn't!"

We sit down to my favorite meal of pot roast, string beans, freshly baked bread with butter. I look at Ann but she avoids my eyes, except briefly to smile when we take each other's hands for prayer.

"Lord," Bob begins, "we thank you for another day's work that is done. We thank you for our strength and health. Thank you for our food, our loved ones, and your own love. Be with us now as we share this meal, and bless our time together. Amen."

"Amen," Ann and I say together.

Passing steaming bowls around the table, Bob says, "Carol, I've been thinking lately that you might want a change."

I nearly drop the beans. "Pop?" I ask.

"Well," he continues, "I'm getting on in years, and you know the farm as well as I do. What would you say to taking over, rather than taking orders?"

"No Pop, I couldn't," I say, my hands fumbling over the bread.

"Sure you could," he replies. "We could hire a foreman to help, but I think it's time I handed over the reigns. You're just the person to take over. No one loves the farm as much as you do."

I didn't expect that my feelings had been so hidden as to make Bob think I loved this place. What was I going to say now? How could I get out before the trap shut forever? I take a sip of water, and pretend to think. They look at me expectantly, Bob beaming over his mustache.

"Actually, Pop, Mum, I have been thinking about a change," I say. "The farm's not been doing well these last years, and money's been really tight. Today I got a letter from a developer who wants to buy...."

"Oh, Carol, you wouldn't really sell the farm, would you?" asks Ann. "I know it hasn't been yielding much the last couple years, and legally it is yours to sell, but it's been in the family for over 100 years."

I look at Bob, startled to find his face beet red, his anger held in check. In all the year's I've known him, I've never seen him angry.

"Pop," I start.

"No, Carol. I won't speak of this. You will not sell the farm!"

"But Pop."

Bob's voice is low and raw. "Mother, thank you for dinner. I'll eat later. I'm going out for awhile."

Carefully, systematically, Bob folds his napkin, places it precisely beside his plate, gets up, pushes in his chair, gets his coat on, and SLAMS the door behind him. Ann and I jump, and the windows rattle in their frames. I feel miserable. I wish I could cry.

"Dear, let's have some tea," Ann says, getting up to put on water. She chooses chamomile from the pantry as I get mugs from the cupboard. We take our tea into the library, where we always discuss farm-related matters.

After a few minutes of silence, Ann says, "Carol, I know I speak for Bob, too, when I say we love you dearly, and we always have. From the first day Dan brought you out to meet us, we spoke well of you. You are always welcome here, and we would love for you to stay with us.

"I know these years since Dan's passing have been hard on you. Dear, I can't imagine life without my Bob. Sometimes I feel guilty about his still being here with me when you have lost your own husband. He was my only son, and yet I know you loved him more than I did. Here are the tissues, dear. Go on and cry, you haven't for so long."

I am embarrassed. Ann is so matter-of-fact with me, not softening her words or comforting me. But she is right--I have not cried since Dan's funeral. But while Ann spoke, the tears had begun and now they feel unstoppable.

Ann continues, "Carol, the farm is rightfully yours, we know that. But this is our home. Bob and I have lived here together for almost sixty years, and Bob was born and raised here. It's the only home he's ever had. How can you think to sell his home out from under him?" Ann was angry now. "That would be the most ungrateful act you could commit!"

"Oh, Mum, I don't mean to be ungrateful, but I don't know what to do. I'm miserable and confused. I'm so bored with this farm, but I feel guilty even saying that. I'm sorry Pop thinks I love it. I didn't mean to mislead him."

"No, I don't suppose you did."

"But Mum, what am I supposed to do? I've lived here with you more than 25 years. It's my home, too. But I'm so tired of farming. My God, I want to scream out there in the fields!"

"That's no reason to sell our home. Find something else to do. You're not a child!"

I sting at her words. "But how can Pop do it alone? I would feel terrible leaving it all in his hands, especially now that he wants to retire."

"Carol, his decision to retire is his decision. He'll retire with or without your permission!"

"But what will you do for money?"

"We've been planning for retirement since we came back from our honeymoon. We're fine. And you have money, too. You haven't touched Dan's insurance money."

"But where would I go?"

"Why do you have to go anywhere? Stay here, work in town, go back to school, open your own business, take up painting. Whatever you want!"

"They're offering millions of dollars, Ann. How can we not even consider it?"

I had never called her Ann before. It startled us both. Ann looked at me sternly, then drank her tea in silence and thought awhile.

Finally, she said, "Carol, let's go find Bob and discuss this calmly. We'll figure it out together. But before we go, I want to say one more thing. Whatever you decide to do, aside from selling the farm, know that we will support you. You've got Dan's insurance money. There's a whole world out there for you. But you must decide with joy, not guilt. Don't worry, we'll stand behind you."

Fresh tears flowed. Out of a world of choices, I was barred from only one. The rest of the world was before me. For the first time since Dan's death, life began to unfold in a graceful abundance. Maybe this was God's love coming through, after all.

"Mum, I love you," I said.

And as Ann's own eyes began to water, she hugged me and whispered, "There's my girl."