One Small Crack

There was once a farmer who worked very hard, and at the end of the summer he was well rewarded for his work. One could tell how successful he had been by the substantial size and excellent quality of his grain. It was well-nurtured grain that was now full and mature, having in it all the potential for making strong muscles and clear minds.

The farmer sat back with great satisfaction, for he was very proud of his harvest. He thought back on how he had waged a relentless war against the weeds and thistles and how he had kept them from creeping into his field. He had been unflagging, too. in his battle against the harmful insects that can ruin a crop. In short. he had taken every precaution to ensure that no harm would befall his crop, for the farmer knew that the crop's success meant his success.

The farmer thanked God for e sending the rain to water the soil an~ the sunshine to make it grow. The crop epitomized perfection. To everyone in the valley it was an example of how large and rich and pure a crop could become, if it was properly cared for.

The farmer had worked long and hard all summer, and after he had harvested his crop and put it into his barn he was very tired.

In one of the boards of the barn there was a tiny crack. The farmer had seen it when he was putting his grain into the barn and a voice had said to him, "The time to repair it is now, while it is still so small."

A second voice in the farmer's mind thought differently. "You've worked hard," said the second voice. "You've been diligent and industrious, and you've persevered, all summer long, against insects and weeds. Don't you think you deserve a little rest?"

The farmer was considering the advice of both voices when the second voice added, "You can repair it later on, in the winter, when there is no work to do."

When the farmer felt how good it was to rest he no longer felt guilty for having listened to the second voice. In fact, he was glad that he had.

Later in the week the weather turned cooler and the first voice came again and told the farmer that he really should repair the crack. The voice was quieter this time and its impression on the farmer was even less than before. So, the farmer continued to rest.

rAII along the second voice had ' me to the farmer. Every day it reminded him of how good it felt to relax and of how nice it was to be able to rest on the laurels of his achievements made over the summer. Sometimes the farmer asked the second voice if it didn't think that he should go and fix the crack, but it always answered, "Later on." So, the crack was not fixed.

The voice came back one last time to the farmer. "It's getting downright cold out now," said the voice. "Don't you think you had better fix the crack before the vermin get in and destroy all of your grain?"

"Why, it's only a crack. Vermin could not possibly get into my barn through such a tiny crack," said the farmer indignantly. The second voice had convinced the farmer of how wrong the first voice had been and had even caused the farmer to develop malice toward the first voice. "You are ignorant and stupid," the farmer said to the first voice. "Go away, and do not bother me anymore."

It would have hurt so much less if it had been a fire or tornado. It would have hurt so much less if it had been a catastrophe and it had all been demolished instantly. But it hadn't. On the contrary, its demise was slow, like a cancerous growth, making it all the more hideous.

They began their deathly work at bottom, in the crack, where they could not be seen. By the time the first snow had fallen the maggots had succeeded in destroying a few bushels of the flawless grain. By themselves, the maggots would not have meant disaster. But they had enlarged the crack just a trifle so that the mice, with their sharp teeth, had been able to gain access to the barn. Of course, the mice enlarged the hole. Now it was a big hole, and brazenly the rats entered. The rats were completely ruthless, more so than the maggots and the mice put together, and with voracious appetites they ate and ate until their gorged bellies could hold no more.

In December, when it was very cold, and the snow was deep, the farmer found that he had no more food in his house. Fat and lazy now, he put on his boots and overcoat and trudged out to the barn to get some grain to sell so that he could replenish his food supply.

Most of the grain was gone. What was left was so badly blighted that even the rats had cast it aside.

The farmer looked at what was left of his once perfect grain and he turned around and cried out for help to the second voice, to the voice that had told him what a tiny crack it was and that he need not worry about it. But the second voice only laughed at him.

Then the farmer came out of his barn and fell on his knees in the snow and tore off his overcoat. And he cried out to the first voice, repenting and asking to be forgiven.

The first voice listened to the farmer and he was shown mercy and compassion. The farmer was provided with food for the winter and new seed for the spring.