This is a cotton boll. It grows in a cotton field. It is not to be confused with a paw-paw.
This is a pawpaw. It grows in a pawpaw patch. It is not to be confused with a cotton boll.
Now, that is settled, so let's move on.
Yesterday our homeschooling group took a little trip to a Cotton Gin in Yazoo City.
The weather was beautiful and it was the perfect day for an outing.
It never fails to amaze me how my Father God can use simple, everyday activities to teach me. He is The Man. He rules this universe, including the cotton boll. So, if He tells the cotton boll to step up and teach, it stands at attention, salutes, and steps up and teaches.
Before Eli Whitney's invention of the Cotton Gin in 1793 it took a man an entire day to pick seeds and trash out of only one pound of cotton. Today the modern gin can clean thousands of pounds a day. We watched metal teeth and brushes run through freshly picked cotton and only the valuable fibers would pass through.
Good thing cotton doesn't have feelings - but I do. When my Father God does a little "ginning" on me and my attitude, it is painful. Just like those fuzzy little seeds cling to the cotton, my sins cling to me. They stubbornly refuse to let go - envy, unforgiveness, jealousy, gossip, addictions, anger - and only through God's process of seperating everything that is unclean in my life and forcing what is good and acceptable to the surface can I rid myself of them. In doing this, He creates in me a new person.
Just like those hard-working men turn the machines on each and every day, each day God begins this process in me anew. He never gives up on me. He is so much love.
"Whom the Lord loveth, He chasteneth." Hebrews 12:6
If I allow God, He will eliminate the worthless things that trash my life. 1500 pounds of cotton produces only 500 pounds of clean cotton fibers. God judged Israel for their sins, they were scattered and lost. But there remained a remnant - and it was worth far more than what was lost.
I said it was a beautiful day, perfect for an outing. It was, and the wind was blowing soft fibers all around us. I got a little sunburn on my face and a little whisper in my ear. You are worth far more than your sins.
Thank you Betsy and Ira, http://handwovendreams.blogspot.com/. Thank you, all my friends, for an enjoyable day. Thank you, Izzy and Max, for keeping me young. Thank you, cotton boll, for obeying. Thank you, Father, once again.
By the way, my Daddy has some tall tales, I'll tell you those tales one day. One of them is him picking cotton till his fingers bled. That one, after yesterday, I now believe. You know I like the music, so here's a band with a gift. Alabama sings High Cotton.
