Silo Building

I once heard a story about a farmer who was good at what he did. His harvests were plentiful, so he needed to build bigger silos. Soon, they were filled, and he built more. Then, as the story goes, he learns that his time was up, and all he had to show for his life was a bunch of filled silos.

I try to recall this story whenever I find myself clinging to things that don’t matter. It’s a story that’s particularly relevant today as we swim though some peculiar waters. A virus has altered our day-to-day living. We’re told to stay away from others, to work from home, if we still have jobs, and it seems so strange to live this way. We walk down the barren aisles of the grocery stores and avoid eye contact with the other customers as if the virus could be spread by simply looking at each other. 

Fear distorts us in so many ways. 

Economic interdependence has revealed itself like a dew-covered spider web. We look out our windows to make sure our silos are still standing, and I wonder if we aren’t somehow being asked the same question as the farmer: On what are our lives truly based?

I have no doubt this troubled time will alter the way we live our lives. What I wonder is, will it alter us for good or ill? When it’s over, and it will be over, will we go back to business as usual? Will we clench our first more tightly, or open our hands? Will we return with greater vehemency to silo-building, or will we focus on something beyond our silos? When we return to work, will we still take walks around the neighborhood with our families and wave to neighbors? Will we continue to play board games, or go back to eating dinner in front of the television while clinging to our phones?

Like everyone, I can’t wait until this is over, but I pray that, when it is, I remember the important lesson it’s been trying to teach us, the same one that was taught to a farmer long ago.