Three Point Hitch (Happy Thanksgiving)

Massey Ferguson 444 -- Three Point Hitch

My great Uncle Shine lived in Crestview, Florida. To keep a roof over his head, he worked for the telephone company as a lineman; and to put food on the table, he raised a few cattle.

He had a little farm with just enough acreage to keep a cow or two for milk and butter and raise a few steers for hamburger and the occasional T-bone. He also loved to hunt, and he was good at it. So protein wasn’t a problem at Uncle Shine’s table.

On top of that, he loved working the land. By the time I met him he was just few years younger than I am now, so he had slowed down a bit; but he still loved climbing up on his tractor and piddling around, to quote Aunt Addy.   

He had an old Massey Ferguson 444 tractor that he loved. He had an old Massey Ferguson 444 tractor that he hated. It depended on the day and the mood of the “old red girl”. When she was in a good mood she was the “old red girl,” at other times she took on some more flamboyant titles.

Nonetheless, he enjoyed that tractor. I will never forget that day he decided to show me how to put a harrow on the old girl. It was the first time I had been introduced to that maddening contraption called a three point hitch on the back of a tractor.

Uncle Shine was my Granny’s calmest sibling. Granny and her sister Nellie could get into it pretty good if the mood struck them, but Uncle Shine usually just sat there and grinned when Granny got on his case, which drove her nuts, as intended.

Like my Grandpa, Uncle Shine seldom raised his voice. Even keeled is a good way to describe him. That was until he decided to show me how to put the harrow on that three point hitch. 

The three point hitch, for those unfamiliar, is a marvelous contraption that sits on the back of a tractor and connects the tractor to most of the various implements that are used, from the aforementioned harrow, to a bush hog, to a disc plow and just about anything else you can think of that looks good on a tractor, farmer’s daughter excluded of course. It lifts with the strength of fifty men and helps the tractor operator to lift and control some very heavy and very awkward things that otherwise would be impossible.

Once connected, it is a marvel and blessing. Connecting it, however, is anything but.
It has three connecting points, thus the name, and each of these points speaks a different language, plays a different tune, and dances to its own rhythm. Getting them on the same page takes an act of congress, and I mean the congress we have right now; and you know how effective they are.

A three point hitch could make Gandhi grumble, and it proved to me that my Uncle Shine was indeed kin to my Granny. You see Granny could weave a verbal tapestry in times of stress, and Uncle Shine was apparently triggered by the three point hitch because that calm man, known for his serene smile, sat down at his verbal loom and went to work. I can’t say I learned any new words, but I did hear a few new combinations.

The other day I was trying to attach my bush hog to my tractor, via that maddening contraption called a three point hitch. About half way through the experience my verbal loom was warming up pretty good, but then, all of a sudden I started to laugh. My mind had headed back home to Uncle Shine and that harrow, and a feeling of calm contentment came over me.

I had to stop and examine this miracle, and when I did, it hit me that the frustration of trying to get that confounded thing to work right had become more of a balm for my soul than an aggravation.  

You see in a world of constant change, the aggravation of a three point hitch remains the same today as it did some fifty years ago just outside of Crestview, Florida. Like the game of baseball, my love for my wife and the humble hoecake it is a constant in a world of inconsistency.  

It can be argued that this has been a difficult year thus far. The Covid19 pandemic, the summer of protest and violence, the contentious election, life being turned up on its ear and the like, has been an annoyance and the inconsistency of the whole affair has only added to the aggravation; but I contend that even the in the midst of 2020 there are more things to be thankful for than there are to be upset about.  

For me, at least, time with my family, something of which I tend to take for granted, has been brought into sharp focus as a blessing.
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Our little cabin was transformed into a combination daycare center and one room school house for a time, and the blessed bedlam that I have proclaimed to love in small doses over the years, became more of an enduring fixture in the house. Once I quelled my fight or flight response to the situation and was able to view it more carefully, the blessings of God became more evident.

I got to know and appreciate my grandchildren in a way that would have never been possible otherwise. I discovered, once again, that my wife, Mary, has the patience of Job, the endurance of Sisyphus, and an endless well of love. It has been a joy to witness my grandchildren drink from that well in the midst of what has to be for them, a confusing and frightening state of affairs. The comfort that the simple presence of Mary brings them is a wonderful thing to observe; and yes, I have found a comfort and peace that has sustained me in the midst of the turmoil from that same well. God is good, and I thank him for stopping my mad rush through life long enough to see the blessings He has for me.

I have discovered many, many more blessings in the midst of the tumult that has been 2020 thanks to my extended time with my Lord, but time and paper will not permit me to expound on them any further right now.

So I will simply say “Happy Thanksgiving!”

​You are surrounded by blessings untold. Look for them, be thankful for them and never take them for granted. You are blessed. Be thankful.
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Love,
Pastor Tony  
 
 

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