Summers Past (by D.A. Cobb)

images-8As a young boy I spent many summers visiting a farm in the Pocono Mountains of northeast Pennsylvania. Each year as the time approached for this annual pilgrimage my excitement level would rise to unbearable levels like a kid waiting for the Good Humor man.

The farm was located near the small and picturesque village of Bushkill, near the banks of the legendary Delaware River. The area was part gently rolling and grassy meadows and part steep and mostly thick wooded foot hills. The terrain was separated by a pure sparkling brook cascading over moss covered rocks creating tiny white rapids and small waterfalls.

The owner, the grandfather of my best and closest friend, had worked the land for years and grew the two C’s, cattle and corn, and a few roosters and hens. He also had a small apple orchard behind the house for good old-fashioned pies. He was fire chief of the township and I remember him driving the fire truck with the sirens blaring celebrating the end to World War II.

It was a wonderful time as the other boys and I slept in a tiny cabin next to the stream and fell asleep each evening to the music of rushing water. Our chores were usually finished by lunch and we would spend the rest of the day swimming in the river or fishing for trout in the stream. In the evening we would play baseball on the large front lawn and as twilight approached we would hike around the property looking for white tailed deer and the occasional black bear who called the area home.

One day a letter arrived announcing the state was about to exercise it’s right of eminent domain and purchase hundreds of acres including our farm for a new reservoir. They were to dam a portion of the river and the entire area would eventually be under water. I won’t go into the emotions of the moment other than to say they were intense and filled with sadness.

All the buildings were demolished including the beautiful historic house, the barns and sheds, the garage that once stored the farm equipment and of course, our getaway cabin. The only physical memory left was the underground stone basement of the cold house used to keep perishables cool.

How would you react if all your worldly goods were suddenly and forever taken? Would you turn to our Almighty God and ask for His direction and assurance or follow the path of Satan with anger and reprisal? How we reply is a statement of our faith and how we act is a testament to our beliefs.

Unfortunately, after all this turmoil the government never did build the reservoir.

 

Read with insight Philippians 3:8-9

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