I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about being at our Tennessee farm that makes you feel closer to God. Is it the fact that you’re surrounded by sheer remoteness? Is it the breathtaking views? Could it be as simple as just being at a higher elevation?
Whatever the reason, you feel it as soon as you step outside. You feel it when you breathe in that first breath of crisp dewy morning air. You feel it in the afternoon breeze that floats through the hills and in the soft sunshine that falls delicately across your skin. You can hear it when your boots crunch with every step, colliding with the gray gravel roads that lead from farm to farm. Ironically, you hear it when you hear nothing at all, lost in the remoteness of the mountainous fields.
But probably the biggest way you can feel it is by sight. You can see it every evening when the sun sets behind the mountains. It’s the kind of sunset that if a camera lens could fully capture it, it’d look more like a watercolor painting than a reality. You can see it when the moon and stars illuminate the midnight sky, uninterrupted by city lights. You can see it in the rolling hills where the rows of crops seem to lead all the way up to the mountains and down the other side. And you can see it in the abundant harvest He blesses us with season after season.
Like I said, I’m not sure the reason — if it’s one I mentioned or all of them or none at all — but there’s something special about our farm in Tennessee. You can hear it, you can see it, and you can feel it.
Whatever the reason, we are grateful for each summer season there for the past eleven years, and we look forward to the next.