It’s easy to feel as though the world is tearing apart. Each morning brings a fresh litany of distressing news. The legal principles that founded our nation and the civic order we have come to expect are increasingly unreliable.  Even nature seems to have abandoned its rules.

One little farm in my county was the epicenter of 78 earthquakes in just over a month. The farmers said it felt like living in a snow globe. Winter storms washed through areas burned by intense summer fires. A year after fire damaged or destroyed 15,000 homes in the Southern California town of Altadena, most residents are still unable to return. My own children had to move.

You don’t need a list of the national turmoil. You are living with it. The public square has become a perilous place, causing some of us to disengage. At the same time, the lack of trust and the inability to freely share our opinions have seeped into our personal relationships, taking a tremendous toll.

My understanding of what’s happening may differ from yours. That’s ok. No matter which way you lean politically, there’s no denying that things are a mess. And that fact is disturbing.

The balm for my soul lately has been farm fields near my home. There, a green patchwork of lettuce and cauliflower is punctuated by loamy furrows of soil awaiting the next step in the planting process.

Maybe more reassuring are the workers I see weeding, spreading fertilizer, or chucking solid white orbs of cauliflower into the hands of those who trim and pack the produce into boxes. Today, they were picking strawberries. I had feared these hardworking fieldhands would all disappear. Targeted as the wrong sort of people, they are in danger of being scooped up and expelled.

“Would they all abandon their posts out of fear?” I fretted. Would the crops rot? Would those furrows be left unplanted?

Masked ICE agents have repeatedly swarmed nearby farms. An online contingent applauds the action. Deport them all! But who would be willing to roll up their sleeves and do those difficult jobs?

So, every time I see people working in the fields, I silently cheer them on. Thank you for being brave and sticking with it to provide for your family and for all of us who like salad and cauliflower crust pizza.

There is more we can do, of course. My husband volunteers at the local food bank. We have a people’s kitchen on the calendar. Before Christmas, my Bible study group made Blessing Bags to hand out – without judgment – to needy people we encountered. Many opportunities exist for those who want to get involved in protests or immigrant support organizations.  

We all can take time to listen to someone who is struggling. Do anything that counters the weighty hopelessness that pervades our communities.

The prophet Micah was a farmer. He spoke at a time when Israel and Judah’s unjust economic practices were destroying both the land and the people. What did God want the people to do instead? he declared. To act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God. Not much has changed.

I am comforted that God’s love and promises are more potent than human evil. God’s ultimate purpose is not to destroy but to save and redeem.

Still, because my human heart needs to be bolstered periodically with reminders of love, kindness, perseverance, and courage, I remain watchful.  I need to notice when people step out in love. I also need to be one of those people.

And find fields.

Photo credits:

Image 2: AP Photo

Image 3: AP Photo/John Locher

Image 4: United Farm Workers