Hi, all. Just a thought to help start your weekend.

Fall is definitely in the air where I live. Our daytime temperatures have been in the 70’s and low 80’s, and nighttime temps in the upper 40’s. The house air conditioner hasn’t kicked on in over a week. As I sit typing this, the birds are singing, the morning sun is warming the earth, and God’s blessings are too numerous to mention.

I consider one of those blessings to be that I am from a family (on both sides) of hard workers of the land — people who spent many an hour outdoors plowing and planting, picking and gathering, and chop, chop, chopping with the hoe. I distinctly remember my parents telling me of their memories from this time of year spent in the cotton fields like the North Mississippi cotton patch in my photo this week.

Modern-day machinery changed the way cotton was picked many years ago, but my parents are from the generation that picked cotton by hand, one cotton boll at a time. My mother recalls seeing her father teary-eyed at how much cotton was wasted and left behind when the machines started being implemented into the picking process. There is definitely something to be said for working with the hands and getting our best job done.

As these cooler days creep in and this year begins its final quarter, there is a time to reflect on the year. How much goodness did I plant? How many seeds of the Gospel did I sow? How many rows of folks have I walked among, sharing the Son-shine and thirst-quenching waters of His love? How many times have I dragged out the old hoe and chopped away at those pesky weeds of doubt and despair that seem to pop up everywhere?

Am I doing my best job in His fields? Or will I stand at the end of the lonely row teary-eyed over all those who have been missed?

You may not see much when you see a cotton field, but I see His blessings on my life, and I’m so very grateful.

Just a thought. ’Til later.

Rev. Brad Campbell, mastah.pastah@yahoo.com.