I proceeded to feed the chickens and gather the eggs on that warm January afternoon just as Leavon's father, Mr. Charlie, had done in the same location over 80 years ago.

As I was returning to the house, I stopped and looked around. Many things had changed since the days when Leavon's mother and dad had bought the farm in 1917 and many more things had changed since Leavon and I bought it from her widowed mother in the 1980's. However, there were still many things in evidence that point to the continuity in life and the bridge between generations. For example, I gazed at the many varieties of trees Mr. Charlie planted around the place.... and then fixed my eyes on an old watering trough he built for his horses to drink from.

As I walked over to the old trough, it brought back so many memories from almost a half century ago when I first came to the farm. Leavon and I were dating in college and would come "home" on the weekends to visit her folks. Mr. Charlie would go out in the late afternoon to feed his chickens and gather the eggs. Then, he would always sit on the edge of the watering trough and wait until the chickens went "to roost" so he could lock the door to the chicken house. While there, he would whittle away a block of horse feed and let the small pieces fall into the water to feed the goldfish that Leavon had placed in the watering trough.

Sitting on the trough, in the peace and quiet away from the house, Mr. Charlie would meditate on life and consider the many things going on around the farm. Next to early morning, it was his favorite time of day.

On those occasions when I joined Mr. Charlie sitting on the watering trough, it always became quite an adventure for me. He wasn't interested in talking about sports or any other thing of which I had some knowledge. Instead, Mr. Charlie would ask me questions about things I had never thought of nor had the slightest interest in. He would query me on how many different varieties of trees he had planted around the farm or how many matches were in a book of matches. No doubt my responses to his probing questions just added to his concern about the intelligence of this fellow who was dating his daughter.

In the Spring of our Junior year of college, I proposed to Leavon. She responded in the affirmative, but told me I would first have to ask her father for "her hand". I knew immediately that meant another trip to the watering trough and another round of questions from Mr. Charlie.

After a bit of hemming and hawing, I finally got around to asking Mr. Charlie for Leavon's hand in marriage. I guess my inability to answer most of his previous questions made his response all the more predictable. He said, "NO!"

I believe that was the day that I took another step toward manhood. I pulled myself up and responded quite emphatically, "Well, we are going to get married anyway!".... And we did. I'm sure it helped that Leavon's mother thought I was just fine for her daughter.... and that she had some sway over Mr. Charlie.

Sitting on that old trough gazing into the setting sun of a warm January afternoon, I reminisced about those "watering trough" days of years ago. I, also, thought about when Leavon and I "retired" to the farm, one of the first things we did was to "restore" the old trough. We cleaned it out and put a new coating of masonry mix on the inside walls. After filling it with water, we went to Wal-Mart, bought some tiny goldfish for 27 cents each and placed then in their new home. Now, things were getting back to the way they were many years ago... and it made Leavon more than happy.

Life goes on at the watering trough. The many trees Mr. Charlie planted nearby are still standing, although we have added more in recent years. The goldfish are now 6-7 inches long and I suspect are the great-great-grandfish of the ones Leavon and I placed there about ten years ago. I imagine, also, that this Spring might be a good time to give the old trough a new face-lift.

All in all, the old watering trough is still a great place to sit and meditate on life... and consider all that is going on around the farm. Built solidly out of brick, an old iron wagon wheel and some mortar in 1930, it is likely to be around for another generation or two.... and may well be the place where a future father and prospective son-in-law get to know each other a bit better.

Have a GREAT Saturday as we consider how God has ordered our lives with threads of continuity.

Don