I love the Farmer’s Markets. The slow stroll of the people carrying their fruit and veggies and lavender and jam. Holding the hands of their children and old folks, sipping sunshine, and social graces, and the sweetness of a long, summer day. There’s no computers, no video games, and I rarely see a customer on a cell phone at the markets.

People are talking together.

Walking together.

Doing what people do together at these slow-moving markets.

Gathering food and friends the old-fashioned way.

The old-fashioned way.

Like that sweet, little town on the Andy Griffith Show.

Because the world needs more Mayberry, I saw on facebook the other day. So I talked to my boys about good, old-fashioned manners. About how to address older people by their last name with a Mr. or Mrs. on the front, unless the person says, “Please use my first name.” And to look into people’s eyes when they ask you a question. And to give them a smile because the Good Lord knows we need more smiles in this world.

To say please and thank you, and really mean your thank yous.

To be grateful for each day because many people are praying for one more day. Praying to just live long enough to see their child graduate high school, or get married, or have that first grandbaby. I know this because we buried my father-in-law this year, and he really wanted one more day.

I see this at the markets. People fighting cancer and other diseases, walking on their canes, and the arms of their loved ones. “I need good fresh fruit because I’m sick,” they tell me. When I hand them their bag of peaches, or plums, or apricots, or nectarines, I also send a silent prayer with them, Lord, please help this person. They need your healing touch today. Sometimes, I’ll even tell the person I’m praying for them because the Good Lord knows we need more unashamed prayers in this world.

Because life is a gift, not something owed to us.

And we need to acknowledge not just the gift, but the Giver of the gift.

To be still and know that he is God, Psalm 46:10.

We need to slow down and watch for God each day.

So I hung our clothes on the line the other day not because my dryer was broken, but because I wanted to watch the clothes dry in the wind, and to watch for God. It felt so good to feel that delta breeze roll through the Sacramento Valley after a long, hot spell. Roll over my face and toss my ponytail around and cool the back of my neck.

It takes time for clothes to dry on the line.

Precious time.

Time to rest.

Time to pray.

Time to watch for God.

Because the Good Lord knows we need more watching.

Not the watching of TVs and computers and iPhones that stress us out and wear us out and wipe our souls out. But the watching of life. And watching for the Giver of Life.

When a dove settled in a nearby tree and began to coo as I waited for the clothes to dry on the line, I felt God there.

When I saw our son-in-law on the tractor in the orchard– the special, young man we prayed the Lord would bring to love and protect our oldest daughter– I felt God there.

When Cruz ran out of the house and jumped on his swing set with a big smile on his three-year-old face, I felt God there.

Often I’m living so fast in this modern world of high-speed everything, I miss the cooing of doves, and my son-in-law on the tractor, and Cruz’s happy smiles on the swing set.

Thank goodness farming, in a way– in its own special way, because it’s really hard work– has slowed our family down. Has brought us back to life in Mayberry.

Because it takes time to grow and harvest fruit. Out in the orchard, in the cool of the shade, the boys talk to their grandma “Oma” the head fruit picker. Oma teaches the boys how to tell a ripe peach from a green one. How to test the fruit in your hand, gently pulling to see if it releases from the tree. If it doesn’t release, if you have to pull too hard, the fruit’s not ripe.

I’ve spent a lot of years picking green. Jerking at life, wanting things too soon. This generation wants it all too soon, and in the wanting, they miss the growing. Instead of watching for God, they watch everything else. And in everything else, they never find enough, the God of enough.

I want to teach our children it takes time to grow good things. And the seeds you stick in the ground become what they’re meant to be. A peach pit grows a peach. A kernel of corn grows corn. Love grows love. I know it’s old-fashioned, but it works.

Watching for God the old-fashioned way works.

“You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart” Jeremiah 29:13.