I am reminded of the words to a favorite hymn.

Come With Me Into The Fields
by Dan Schuette
The Fields are high and summers days are few,
Green fields have turned to gold
The time is here for the harvesting
for gathering home into barns

The harvest is plenty
laborers are few
Come with me into the fields.
Your arms may grow weary
Your shoes will wear thin
Come with me into the fields

The seeds were sown by other hands than yours.
nurtured and cared for they grew.
But those who have sown will not harvest them
The reaping will not be thir care.
The harvest is plenty
laborers are few
come with me into the fields
your arms may grow weary
your shoes may go thin
come with me into the fields

Rick I will think of your family each time I see a grain elevator and remember the seeds that your dear wife planted in my life and reap a harvest for her honor.  I grieve with thee.  Peace and joy Kathleen
 - Kathleen aka sistersunshine, Wed, 1 Sep 2004 9:13AM