Standing Between The Soy Beans And The Sorghum

Black Hills Sep2013 003


I was meditating today on the verse: “Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her,” Ephesians 5:25

I was brought back to a time when I first met my wife. We fell in love, and we made the decision to make a life together back to where she was from. It was a hard choice for me to leave everything I knew behind but I was eager to make it none the less. I wanted to give myself up to her.

The time that we have spent in this Midwest home will be the fondest memories that I will take with me into my latter years.

The piece below is a love poem slash recounting of that journey, and the decision I had made to follow a farm girl; leaving my city behind and making myself a stranger in a strange land.

I hope this piece inspires you to love your spouse just a little bit more today and treasure them with your love, words and actions as Christ has done for his bride.

God bless,

The Great Plains Poet


Standing Between The Soy Beans And The Sorghum

By Chris T.

A well thought out decision was made to leave the large city behind.

The change in life, in choice of whom to love, was worth the consideration,

To uproot all that I’ve known, all I held dear and,

Fill up a  hatchback overloaded with clothes and long kept treasures.

So I followed the farm girl to have an new address assigned right under my name.

I rested my hand atop her’s which laid on the shift knob of her car,

And through the desert of Phoenix the Pontiac continued to surge,

Amidst the cacti and heat we pointed north,

Stealing kisses and watching panoramas drift by at 65 miles per hour,

While music filled the coupe as a blue-eyed thief found a heart to filch.

The elevation slowly rose as the Rockies came into view,

The overstuffed little white car made its way upward in angle; and our love began to rise up all the more.
Snow fell at angles too strange to believe possible; for this downtown boy had never known snow,

Not in this way, not outside of Mammoth, Heavenly, or Mt. High.

Hands were held, coffee was guzzled, and a bond was formed that was only experienced by two so intertwined.

We met the Black Hills where the Sioux had called home,

For I knew once we crested that bluff, a new chapter would be written in my story,

But mostly in the tale of us; a city boy and a lovely farm girl.

Badlands held their secrets but we revealed our own,

To each other we spoke the mysteries of our puzzles; each with a fit snug and tight.

Now with truck stop food sitting heavy within each belly, the Pontiac continued to roam.

Neither complained about the flat cola, or the smell of nachos upon the other’s breath.

On the downslope of a hill, the vastness of the Midwest grasslands began to unfold before us.

I turned to look upon my lover’s face to see it’s reflection upon her eyes,

To look far beyond the picture that was seen,

Which revealed a brightness and a joy within those baby blues,

And if that experience were recorded in a book, its title might read: “Dakota Territory; a spot nearer to heaven”.

She had a quiet confidence that seemed to build with each mile passed.

My stomach churned with the meal of nervous anticipation at a land so foreign to me.

Her strength lay within her faith from a foundation laid by parents who knew the Hope.

My strength lay in the willingness to go; to be not afraid to make a change.
Buffalo grazed, Holsteins gave us their blank stare for which they’re known,
And the acres of farmland were tilled and ready for next spring.

The steady flow of the Mighty Missouri could be viewed for a great distance before we fell upon it,

And an old bridge had to be crossed, not only in the vehicle; but in my heart as well.

For this truly was the last chance for me to turn back, and though it had crossed my mind,

The rhythm of my girl’s pony tail dancing to and fro,

Made steady the disquiet from being a stranger in a strange land.

And I as think upon the 21 years that have gone by,
The struggles of winter, storms and floods,
Have never left my senses numb,
As I was surprised to be,
Standing between the Soy beans and the Sorghum.

4 thoughts on “Standing Between The Soy Beans And The Sorghum

  1. A amazing story. I’m 1/2 Ojibwa. I like the story of the old places and out west. The badlands are still pretty empty. Hard to grow things in some places. Thank you for sharing the story.

  2. Oh my, Chris! This is beautiful!!! So well written I can picture all of it! And we have a few things in common: I am (mostly) from Phoenix. My parents and other family from/in the Black Hills. Spent a summer doing soil survey just south of the Badlands out of Wall (and have driven the route you describe times without number). I have lived the last 16 years in the home of the SD State Fair and world’s largest pheasant (though in Phoenix with my aging parents and grown children at the moment). I also moved and stayed for my spouse(s) – the staying well thought out! It has been very hard for me there. Yeah, snow at odd angles – like horizontally. But your expression of appreciation for the beauty you find there is an encouragement to me. And I enjoy your blog. Thanks for the visit and follow on mine. I’m glad to “meet” you. Diane

    1. Diane,
      Thank you for the very kind words indeed. This piece was a difficult write and I went through over 30 revisions before I felt it was just right. The goal was a complex one; to marriage the imagery of the state that I know call home with the deep love I have for my wife. When you write something for someone you love, and you want it to bless them, I find it such a arduous task. My wife is VERY well read, and is literally the smartest person I have ever known. So, to impress her, is really quite a feat. I am so glad that it did.
      I am very thankful that the Lord directed you to my blog. I hope He uses it to speak into your life and to encourage you as well.
      Thanks again for the complements and nice words,

      God bless.

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