Children in the corn

I grew up in a small farming community in the Midwest. There was nothing fancy about it. To the naked eye, it was simple and easy. My family lived on a small acreage five miles from town and we were surrounded by cropland. Cropland that didn't belong to us.

We had 3 acres and most of that was pasture. We moved out to the farm the year before I started kindergarten. My parents wanted us kids in a smaller school district, and the move to the country did just that. Dad raised hogs for a few years. The barn was set up for that. But it was tough. He worked a full time job in town and raised hogs in a market that never stabilized. By the time I was in middle school, the pigs were gone, but so was a lot of stress.

Growing up, I had horses in the pastures and a couple of times we had a beef calf that Dad would fatten up that would eventually end up in our freezer, but we weren't "farmers" like most of our neighbors. The land surrounding our farm was either covered in soybeans or corn. We could literally step off our yard into the cornfield... and we did. Even when told not to.

One of our favorite games was hide-and-seek in the cornfield... especially when we had friends over. Mom used to get so mad at us. She was constantly telling us not to play in the field - you'll get lost - she'd say. It was true. As kids, by mid-summer the corn was high above our heads and so thick you couldn't see anything two rows in, but that never stopped us. We were invincible! We had a particular area we liked and "boundaries" we verbally agreed on. Kids, an outdoor game, rules, and endless summer days... life was simple and easy.

We would all start in the same place until the "seeker" turned his back and started counting, then we disappeared into thin air! Like roaches when you turn on the light in the middle of the night. We would run in between the rows of corn until we thought we were a safe distance away, then we would slowly wedge our way across the rows - being careful not to move anything too much and give away our hiding spot. Sometimes you'd even get lucky and there'd be spaces between the stalks and you could easily move from row to row. Even if the seeker got close to you, you could stand perfectly still just a few steps away and he would never know. The soft rustling of the leaves in the wind would not only make it hard to hear footsteps, but it was great camouflage.

I was good at that game. Good at hiding. Good at being quiet and sneaky. I could slip through the rows in any direction. But inevitably, someone would get caught and the seeker would holler across the field - I found her! I was always so smug when it wasn't me. Smug until I realized in all my fun and stealth I had no idea where I was. That initial feeling of panic and what to do next. Do I yell and ask for help? Risk getting into trouble?

I was too short to see over the towering cornstalks. We all were. I had to figure out a way to get 'unlost.' Common sense told me to pick one direction and GO! Straight ahead. The field was square, at some point I'd end up on an end or a side. If I picked the wrong direction, it would take a while, but at least I'd know where I was when I got there.

Isn't adult life just like that? You're doing something fun (probably with your friends), something you know you're not supposed to be doing, but you're not hurting anyone so it doesn't seem like it's a big deal. It all seems so innocent. Until you're in too far and you don't know how you got there.

But... you do know how you got there.

You didn't listen. You didn't listen to the warnings. You justified it by telling yourself you weren't hurting anyone. But that's not true. You're lost. You're alone in this great big world, lost, thinking you have to get 'unlost' all by yourself. WRONG! All you have to do is look up and admit you're lost.

If I had just shouted out for help - admitted I was lost - I would have known my friends were just outside my reach. If I had asked for help, I wouldn't have had to walk all that distance, wondering if I was headed in the right direction. Still lost, but with a plan.

As an adult, I often find myself thinking - I'm not a whole lot different than that little girl that got lost in the cornfield. In fact, in her innocence, she was wiser. On more than one occasion, I've found myself standing in the middle of something wondering how I got there. But I know. I know I didn't listen to that still small voice that tried to warn me. And I know I got myself deeper into nowhere by trying to do it all on my own instead of asking for help. Help from those who love me, including my Heavenly Father.

Guidance and direction. That's what we're supposed to be relying on Him for. Life would be simple and easy with every day guidance and direction from above... but it's hard to see Him if you're standing in the middle of a cornfield, alone amongst the stalks. Maybe it's best to stay in the yard.

Psalms 25:5

Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long.