Under the sweltering summer sun of northwest Iowa, near the meandering path of Indian Creek, three teenagers trudged through the dense rows of soybeans. Anna, Michael, and Liz were tasked with pulling the stubborn cockleburs and sunflowers that threatened the crop. The heat was relentless, the humidity clung to them like a second skin, and the persistent buzz of sweat bees was a test of patience.
As they wiped beads of sweat from their brows, Michael grumbled about the never-ending field and the scorching sun above. “This is the worst,” he sighed, tugging at a particularly resistant weed.
Liz, shielding her eyes against the sun’s glare, interjected with a faint smile, “Remember the story from Bishop Barron's Sunday Sermon? About Jesus and the vineyard?”
Anna, who had been silently cursing a sunflower’s deep roots, paused and leaned on her hoe. “How does that help us now?” she asked, skepticism plain in her voice.
Liz continued, undeterred, “Well, Jesus told this parable about workers in a vineyard. No matter what time they started, they got the same reward. It wasn’t about the hours or the heat; it was about answering the call to work, doing something with purpose.”
Michael snorted, “We’re just pulling weeds.”
“But that’s just it,” Liz pressed on. “We’re tending to the earth, caring for the plants that feed us. Maybe we can think of this as our vineyard. We’re called to care for it, and in doing so, maybe we can find some joy, even in the heat and among the sweat bees.”
The three stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the story settling over them. A slight breeze rustled the soybean leaves, and it was as if the field itself was listening.
With a renewed sense of camaraderie, the teenagers resumed their work, the task unchanged but their perspective subtly shifted. The story of the vineyard had taken root in their minds, transforming the mundane into something more meaningful. They joked and laughed, the hours slipping by, and though the heat, humidity, and sweat bees remained, a sense of purpose made the day’s labor feel a little lighter.
Resolution: I will be zealous in the work that I must do remembering the story of the vineyard.
Spiritual Bouquet: Why stand here all day idle? Let us go into the vineyard.
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