I lay in bed late tonight and I want to cry. I want to cry for all that has been lost and all that will be lost. The future is unmerciful, dragging us kicking and screaming through the present. Showing us glimpses of what might be.

Some of us have rolled over on the bed of life, deferring to the greater power of progress. Others like me have fought. Fought for our way of life. Fought for years. Fought in vain.

Some are still fighting. I have lost. Lost all that I’ve worked so hard for. Lost all that my grandfather and father had worked for. Lost all that I had to pass on to my children. I have lost … everything.

The cattle that faithfully tested every inch of fence line on the place – gone.

Old Greta, who never failed to fill my pail with sweet, warm milk – the elixir of life – gone.

The pigs that would wallow in the mud on those warm summer days or burrow deep into the straw pile when the cold winter winds blew – gone.

The chickens that always seemed to find their way into my wife’s flowers, oh how I would laugh as she chased them around the yard with her broom – gone.

The turkeys and geese that would take turns chasing me across the farmyard as she laughed – gone.

Even the barn cats are gone. They are all gone.

All I have left to show for my forty years of farming is a line of machinery, to small and too old for the modern farmer it never even brought a bid at the auction today.

The auction – strangers, neighbors and friends gathered to gawk and bid against each other for a piece of my soul. I wanted to scream. To run after the departing vehicles and demand my lively hood be returned. But I just stood there. Silently. Defeated.

I wanted to cry when the auctioneer shook my hand and congratulated me on a good sale. Did he even have a heart? He gave me a check – the sum total of a lifetime of hard, backbreaking work. The numbers weren’t nearly high enough.

In the silvery glow of moonlight, I see my wife sleeping in the bed beside me. Tears have streaked a path across her weathered cheeks. Tears she would never have let me see by the light of day. Tears that tear at my heart.

Through the years, she has lent me her strength unselfishly. Her strength has kept me going when all seemed lost. Her strength gave me courage. Her strength I will need more than ever tomorrow – tomorrow when the trucks come to move our meager belongings to town.

A small house waits for us in the middle of a pathetic quarter acre of perfect grass. A house on a quiet street squeezed on three sides by other small houses with dainty little fences.

A quiet little street where the gentle caress of darkness is kept at bay by the unnatural, reddish glow of street lamps. Where heavy curtains hang in every window blocking out the soft, invigorating warmth of the sun. Where even the bedroom windows are covered against the magical glow of silvery moonshine. Where everything is – artificial.

Who is to blame? It’s my fault. I should have modernized, worked harder, longer. Would that have been enough? The government could have provided more financial aid. Surely that would have saved me? My sons – why did they move to the city? Together things would have turned out differently, right? God – where was he when my world was collapsing? He has abandoned me.

My wife snuggles into me. Sensing my despair she tenderly cradles my head to her breast. I draw comfort from the steady beat of her heart. Long, callused fingers gently caress my head and neck. Warm, sweet breath stirs my thinning hair, soothing away some of my pain.

“I love you,” she whispers quietly. Her voice is like the music of a thousand angels singing just for me.

She releases me. Suddenly I’m lost, adrift in a black void of nothingness. She rolls to her side and presses her body against mine. The fit is perfect. The black void fills with memories of love and happiness. It fills with – my wife. My arms hold her tight and I feel young again. Undefeatable. She kisses me. Her tough is feather light and undemanding.

I want to cry again. Cry for all the people in the world who will never feel this all-consuming love for another person. Cry for all the people who are given this love everyday but don’t realize it until it’s gone. Cry for joy.

Suddenly it’s gone. The fog that has surrounded me for far too long is gone. Wrapped in the tender embrace of my wife I can finally see.

God has not abandoned me. In his wisdom, he has put a fork in the path I follow. He has taken me to the very edge of the forest. I stand now on the threshold of a beautiful meadow.

In this meadow the stresses of every day life and the struggle to survive is minimal. I can – retire. Or I can follow the path that leads back into the forest and mourn all I have lost. Mourn all that might have been.

A hand snakes across my bare chest and curls around my neck. A sigh of contentment whispers through my loves tender lips.

In an instant understanding floods through me and I know I will smile again. Everything I have is not gone. The most important thing in my life is sleeping in my arms. I can see that now.

I have made my choice. Tomorrow I will walk out of the forest and never look back. Tomorrow I will take the hand of the woman I love and together we will run through the flowers in the meadow.