The Salt of the Earth Kind of Faithful

The evening of March 30 was a blur for my sisters in Carmi, Illinois. Literally. A storm passed through town, and my sister Denise said, “Everything was a blur outside the window.” The event happened so fast, they didn’t make it to the basement. We learned later it was an EF1 tornado! Thankfully, they were safe, but outside, a huge old elm tree broke in half and landed in the backyard. Because it didn’t hit any buildings, their home owners’ insurance didn’t cover the expense of getting it cut up and hauled away.

 

However, my sisters are good neighbors, so when the neighbor across the street learned of their plight, he contacted Illinois Baptist Disaster Relief. Within hours, folks showed up with chain saws and tractors and cut down the tree and hauled it away. 

 

On a text thread with our mutual friend Jo, who lives in nearby Evansville, Indiana, Karen shared the story. Jo texted: “People with chainsaws are the salt of the earth. People with tractors are angels.” 

 

I heard a song. A country song. Jo did, too. She heard Waylon Jennings singing it. Karen, Jo and I worked for several days building the lyrics. I arranged and recorded it on Garage Band. It’s country-is. I’m not Waylon Jennings, and I don’t play guitar. I played an acoustic guitar patch on the piano and found some electric loops for filler riffs. Have a listen.

 

By the way, Jo blogs at Sonnystone Acres.

 

When the storm moved out and the wind died down,

the yard was a natural disaster.

But real close by in this Illinois town

live some folks with chain saws and tractors.

That old elm blew down, just missing the house,

so insurance would not pay a dime.

But big hearts and big tools cleared that mess out, 

restoring my faith in mankind.

People with chainsaws are the salt of the earth,

People with tractors are angels.

They’re there when you need them,  you don’t have to ask.

They’re the salt of the earth kind of faithful.

 

 

The tractor moved out and the chainsaw died down,

I stood in the silence, so grateful

for big hearts and big tools in this Illinois town, 

the salt of the earth kind of faithful.

People with chainsaws are the salt of the earth,

People with tractors are angels.

They’re there when you need them,  you don’t have to ask.

They’re the salt of the earth kind of faithful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Prisms

 

When I first looked out the window this morning, I caught the moment when frost was melting into dew. Each crisp droplet split the sunlight into colors, as if a rainbow had fallen from the sky and shattered, spilling  prisms on the grass. I was awed by my capacity to perceive each each quivering dew drop on behalf of the universe. I offered up the experience as my commitment to honor the miracle of a new day.