Home > Faith, Faith is Hard, Religion, Worship > The Prayer of a Man…

The Prayer of a Man…

What if you woke up every morning, did your hair, ate breakfast and was off to work/school, and each morning when you stepped out on your front porch, you overlooked this:


How soon would it be before you were taking advantage of such a beautiful and peaceful atmosphere?

One of the things that I am most fascinated with is history. At one point in time I wanted to be an archeologist in Egypt, uncovering lost cities and tombs, and I dreamed of being the first person to discover what (if anything) is in the Sphinx. Crazy and childish, I know.

But, even upon entering into my current Student Ministry position, I began looking into receiving a Masters in History (which is still very alive in the “Things I want to do” list). I have always been captivated by encountering people throughout history, and the ability to stand in places where history is rich and full which excite me deep in my spirit and soul.

So during this week, I have been filled with probing questions for my grandfather-in-law as I learned about the history of the farm which has been in Cass’s family for 200 years. I have been a nomad most of my life, continuously moving and residing in places for only a season, yet I have always had a strong desire to stay in one place for a very extended amount of time so that stories and legacies are built.

And the Wood family has much of that around here. Around the early 1800s, the first Wood husband inherited close to 300 acres of land in Millry, Alabama. Gorgeous hillside covered in tree, pines, creeks and beauty. There was a house built on the land where a few generations passed through.  This land endured the Civil War while some of the family were involved, fighting for the South.

As time progressed and more stories and legacies were made, the original log house burnt down around the time of the Great Depression. The house, which I am currently sitting in, was then built in place of the log house dating it close to 75-80 years old. Over time, it has been added onto with rooms, closest, porches, etc.

About 40 yards from the back door sits a block of concrete which was part of the original doorsteps of the log house that holds as a reminder of the history this land has endured. To stare upon this lump of rock, it is exciting to think of the wind, rain, weather, feet and years these steps have lived through. And over 200 years later, this lump of rock shouts of stories from things we only read in text books.

As I walk the land of this farm, I can almost imagine the time and culture, without roads and working in the fields with the animals and the land. At times, throughout the week, I find myself staring out the window as the rest of the family is in the other room. I stare across the field, at that picture above, and cannot help for my imagination to saturate my thoughts.

For 200 years, the Wood family has worked, slaved and fought for their children and their grandchildren to have a place to take pride in and call their own. They did it not because it was popular, but because it was what was right. And to watch my grandfather-in-law tell stories never ending of his life and memories of this land, I can only contain myself until I to begin to build my story and my legacy to offer to my children and grandchildren.

My heart is untamed and wants so much to settle, but I plead that God would only allow me to settle for that which is beneficial for my family. To settle for something that would endure 200 years of hard work and commitment. That, I believe, is the pray of a man.

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