The Barn

Today was a perfect June afternoon. High 70's. Low humidity. Brilliant blue sky filled with puffy white clouds that beckoned me to stop and look for hidden animals. My problem was I had errands that included a 20 minute drive to Walmart. No time to stop and view the zoo in the sky. It made me sad so I rebelled and took old 60 rather than the interstate. I enjoyed the sights along the way- beautiful flower beds adorning lawns, petunia's overflowing their containers at the nursery, meadows of knee high grass dancing in the breeze, and then I saw the barn. Not just any barn, a tobacco barn, and I was transported back to the first time my husband and I travelled here to northeastern Kentucky for a job interview and my introduction to a common northeastern Kentucky barn. Large. Black. Often as not, leaning. Gaps between the boards. Contrast this with the barns I was familiar with at home in Northern Ohio where the barns from my childhood were large red buildings. As an adult I was introduced to the huge, white, solid barns of the Amish in north central Ohio. Now I was seeing barns that I was sure must be abandoned- but there were so many of them. Poor farmers- literally. Why else would their barns be in such a sad state of repair?
My husband was offered the job and northeastern Kentucky became our new home. Before long a farming family at church took us under their wing. Our first visit to their home was a real eye opener. There were three barns on their property- well, two and a half really. One was a shelter for the cattle they raised for meals, the other two were replicas of the ones I had seen as we had travelled Route 1 to what had become our new home. As they proudly showed us their property I mentally tried to prepare something nice to say about their barns.
We spent much of our summer roaming their hills. Fall came, they cut their tobacco and asked if my husband could come help them hang it in the barn. I was concerned- how in the world would the barn protect the tobacco- surely it would get damp and the air would be whistling through all those gaps! Wouldn't it get ruined? For those of you who are familiar with raising tobacco I know you are laughing at me because now I know what you know. The barns are built that way on purpose. The gaps allow for air circulation to dry the tobacco and there is a time during the curing process when dampness is needed! The barns of Ohio would be worthless to these tobacco farmers.

I learned a life lesson about judging from the barn experience. God designs each of us for the purpose He has for our lives. I think I more closely resemble a tobacco barn than the Amish barn. And I need to be okay with that. Not judge myself nor anyone else. Simply be content and thankful that God has a use for me- gaps and all :)