horizons.

I have become aware of  the horizon.

It truly is always there, but when the corn and beans grow up and become what they are intended to be, a closeness draws in. A crowding of the area you see. Limited potential and barriers to what you might become. Green and growth is a great thing, but it does hide the horizon.

When the combines are loosed from their summer slumber and ever so steadily chip away at that barrier.. what you are left with is a blank horizon. A breathing of space where one can run and jump and really see the future. A empty space where nothing is hidden and all seems free.  Yes, when the fields are all harvested there is nothing but space to dream and plan out the next growing season.

I'm not sure I have even ever thought of it being death, but I suppose that is what harvest is. Taking the fruit out and discarding the rest. In this way death is beautiful.

I long for a horizon so vast in my soul that God looks at it and says to me.

"You ran with all you had, and I am proud."

  A horizon that doesn't hold me back, and I'm free to make mistakes and plant new seeds and ideas, and where the death of me daily is a good thing. One simply can't live in growth forever, it's a season.  An ebb and flow of learning and growing.

Someday a combine will come and gather your fruit and you can begin again.... and when that day comes... it will be a great thing to see your horizon and be free to see the potential death brings.