CORN, QUILTS AND THE BUTTER COW

For whatever reason, my ministry has taken Arlena me to many parts of this great country. Most of my colleagues stay in the same diocese throughout their ministries and remain in a parish for many years. My tenures have been as short as five years and as long as a little over seven-and-a-half. We have lived in West Virginia, Pennsylvania, Washington State and Iowa.

Living where we did, we were able to see so much of this great land almost right outside our door. What I always found fascinating is that many of our neighbors never saw what we saw. Oh, they knew that the sights we went to see where there and that they would get there someday. Only they never did. Thousands of residents in Parkersburg, WV, have never been to historic Blennerhassett Island where it is reputed that Aaron Burr began plotting on the overthrow of the government.

An equal number in Warren, PA, have never been to Lake Erie or Niagara Falls. Even more in Spokane, WA, have never been to the top of Mt. Spokane which they can see looking out their front doors. One wonders how many people in Cedar Rapids have never been to the iconic Iowa State Fair. Well, we were one of that number until this year when we simply had to get there.

Why? Because my wife had to see The Butter Cow! Since 1911 they have been sculpting a life-size 600 pound cow made out of butter measuring about 5-1/2 feet high and eight feet long. We saw it and it was impressive. We also saw Iowa as Iowa: barns full of hens, cows, sheep, rabbits, horses and pigs; rows and rows of vegetables; corn stalks 20 feet tall; ate a pork chop on a stick and ice cream made from heavy cream from Iowa cows; hundreds of quilts and listened to young entertainers entertaining. It was a blast.

But the highlight, and the only way my mother-in-law would let us into her house, was Iowa corn. We had to bring her a dozen. Iowa corn is the absolute best corn in the world. She even shared one with us, something she did not do years ago when we brought her some on a visit home from Iowa.

The point of all this? Every part of this country is special even if there are times when we may wonder what that specialness is – as Arlena and I did driving through Texas on our way to Austin. But it is there. We just have to look for it. But the reason why any place is special to the people who live there is that it is home, even if they never get more than thirty miles from their front door.

As Dorothy said, “There is no place like home.” We often take that truth for granted when what we need to do is pause and simply be grateful. There may be better places to live, better sights to see, better food to eat. But home is where the heart is. That’s what is important in the end, isn’t it?