 She gathers because she had once sown. Her planting is full of faults, full of gaps as far as she can see, and that in itself is almost enough to keep her from the fields at this harvest. What if she left parts undone or gave more water when it really just needed sun? What if her tending was lacking or her hovering smothering?
She sees the neighboring fields. Their rows have yielded sheaves of experience and praise. But still, she chooses to put on her gloves and apron, carry the knife, and take to the field. She does the back-breaking work of bending and seeking and pulling and gathering all that’s been kept while she tossed in her sleep. But she also gathers because she needs to hum songs in unison with other women laborers as they too reap. To see in her peripheral the rhythm of steps and technique of others doing this vulnerable work and learn what is good in what she’s grown. To gather and hold the harvest of grace that’s been sown (by a tenant farmer, show knows). There’s a burden and beauty in womanhood. “Let Your work be shown to your servant and Your power to my children. Let Your favor be on us and establish the work of our hands; yes, establish the work of our hands. (Psalm 90:16-17) |