And it is the feeling of being necessary, of being
desired, flowing into a man that produces the satisfaction of
contentment. Often and often I think to myself:
These fields have need of me; my horse whinnies when he hears my step;
my dog barks a welcome. These, my neighbours, are glad of me. The corn
comes up fresh and green to my planting; my buckwheat bears richly. I am
indispensable in this place. What is more satisfactory to the human
heart than to be needed and to know we are needed? One line in the Book
of Chronicles, when I read it, flies up at me out of the printed page as
though it were alive, conveying newly the age-old agony of a misplaced
man. After relating the short and evil history of Jehoram, King of
Judah, the account ends--with the appalling terseness which often crowns
the dramatic climaxes of that matchless writing:
"And (he) departed without being desired."
Without being desired! I have wondered if any man was ever cursed with a
more terrible epitaph!
And so I planted my corn; and in the evening I felt the dumb weariness
of physical toil. Many times in older days I have known the wakeful
nerve-weariness of cities. This was not it. It was the weariness which,
after supper, seizes upon one's limbs with half-aching numbness.
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