This morning, as I looked through frosted windows and made my way down to the barn, I found myself pondering the steadfast love of the Lord.
The chill had settled in; the wind was sharp and sure — a sudden reminder that another season has turned.
No matter how many years I live on this farm, I’m never quite ready for the hard parts — the cold, the change, the stretching that comes with each new season.
But I’m learning that, just like the rhythms of the land, life’s challenges have their place in the greater pattern of grace. As the bible says,
“In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” — John 16:33
It’s not the flippancy of the weather, the headlines, or the noise of the day that steadies me, but the unchanging, rooted love of God — constant, patient, and sure, even when everything else is shifting.
I’m blessed with a circle of friends who continually speak grace into my heart—it’s mutual, really—a circle of giving and receiving, ensuring that joy, hope, and peace keep flowing among us.
One dear friend —a humble encourager who has traveled the world teaching about grace and freedom—recently shared an illustration that’s been echoing in my heart ever since. He spoke about a word that beautifully captures the essence of peace:
Ping An.
In Mandarin, it’s close in meaning to the Hebrew Shalom.
He reminded me that both words mean far more than a wish for peace. Peace is not a feeling or a polite greeting—it’s a Person. Peace entered our lives when the Lord Himself did.
In his note, he painted a picture that I’ve held onto—a train as a symbol of our inner life:
- The Engine is the Mind, directed by Truth.
- The Fuel Car is Faith, burning steady.
- The Passenger Cars are our daily thoughts and actions.
- And at the back, there’s the Caboose—our Emotions.
The Caboose, he said, is noisy. It wants to lead, to dictate the direction and the speed. But our task is to remind it gently:
“You belong here, but you’re not the driver. The Engine is guided by Truth, and the Conductor is the Lord.”
That image has stayed with me. It’s where I find my Ping An—the quiet assurance that Peace Himself is with me. Thanks, Dan Camp—you are a blessing in our lives.
Until next time,
— Rachael Jones Locovore Farm
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