In due season...

Gal 6:9... Let us not lose heart in doing good

 for in due time we will reap if we do not grow weary.

Here at Hebron things move along at a cyclic pace, responding to the seasons.  This spring has been exceedingly dry, which naturally impacts the amount of feed in the paddocks and water in the dams.  Consequently we have downsized our flock by a third and on the weekend we sent off our wethers to be butchered, although we kept a couple of lambs aside for Passover next year.

There is a certain kind of peace in following the cyclic feasts of Yehovah.  Regardless of how life progresses or what nature's seasons bring, we can rest in the One who is the Ancient of Days; the Aleph and the Tav.  The moed keep testifying of His redemptive love for mankind; weekly, monthly, annually our attention is drawn to the age to come - the kingdom reign of Yeshua, bringing peace, justice and righteousness.  

Our little caper patch is once again defying the odds and springing to life.  In fact this week I will be doing a first pick.  Christine and Gwen conducted an audit and we have a surprising amount of plants that are doing extremely well.  There is still quite a number that are doing poorly but there's enough good growth overall to be quietly hopeful.  

That caper patch is a constant source of frustration and inspiration - despite ignorance, well-meaning intentions and even unwitting sabotage they resiliently bounce back the next year.  So we continue to care for them with the hope that the plan for them to eventually provide a small income for Hebron will come to fruition.  

In a few months we will be celebrating 10 years here at Hebron.  Such a lot has been achieved physically but even more relationally.  What a blessing it is to be able to come together in a peaceful environment, setting aside time and energy to be with the community of brethren in Yeshua!

If night should come and find me at my toil,

When all Life's day I had, tho' faintly, wrought,

And shallow furrows, cleft in stony soil

Were all my labour: Shall I count it naught

If only one poor gleaner, weak of hand,

Shall pick a scanty sheaf where I have sown?

"Nay, for of thee the Master doth demand

Thy work: the harvest rests with Him alone."

John McCrae