Harvest Time in Michigan.

The leaves are turning their reds, oranges, and yellows, and some trees are already bare. The soybeans are coming off the field. Dark comes sooner now.
It’s harvest time in Michigan.

I drove out of Williamston, took 69 to Flint, and then 75 toward Saginaw. A few miles past the Zilwaukee Bridge, I leave my not-up-north worries behind.

We stopped in Tawas City. I was going to baptize Lillian, now Lillian Brown, and perform her wedding the next day.

After the wedding rehearsal, about twenty of us walked across the street toward the bay in the cold rain. The sky was turning that late-evening blue, and only two of us had beach towels. A police officer watched us go by, and I’m sure he thought it a bit queer.

The rain fell as I recited the promises of God, and then I put Lillian under. The air was ice cold, but the bay was still warm from summer.

I didn’t save Lillian by putting her under the water; I just took part in the bounty. Someone planted, someone watered, and God gave the growth. 

It’s harvest time in Michigan.

Bless you,
Pastor