Last summer this “city-gal” was offered some hay. My husband broke out into laughter trying to imagine what we would do with thousand pound bales of multi-grain grass in our suburban dwelling . I pondered the opportunity, as my brain quickly went through its rolodex in my mind, thinking who I knew who might need hay.  Smiling, I said aloud, “this would be just like God to produce something in our lives out of nothing.” And, oh the McTale would be for the books.

I soon remembered a “Cowboy Church” where I had spoken months earlier. Never in my wildest dreams did I realize the strategic timing of that engagement. In fact, when first booked in the “cowboy capitol” of the world, I feared I was out of my comfort zone since city living had consumed my days. My comfort came when I realized that we were from Dallas, another “Cowboy” capital. Dallas boasts about the biggo barn they have built for their own Cowboys, except we call it a stadium . Sadly, not much has been roped there in a long time. My common bond was found as I left my rawhide audience laughing. However, I had failed to see that the very people I met that night would soon become my business partners.

I called a couple from the church that owned a hay and feed store. In moments I had a sale, plus a quick lesson in markets, grades of hay, prices, and saw the urgent need. Our state was experiencing a drought and our farmers and livestock were in crisis.

I was excited to have made the sale of my first truckload of hay, with other sales pending if my new partner from the hayfeed store, Nathan, liked the quality I had to offer with my Missouri hay. I had to move quickly, though, because I had no trucks and I lived 100 miles from the hay-feed ranch. After two days of asking around, praying and calling anyone I could think of across the nation, my trucker, Greg, was found. Shocking to all—he lived two miles from my hay. Soon I had a crash course on trucking, transportation, pricing and backhauls. Marveling to meet two new breeds of mankind with my cowboys and truckers, I realized great people are everywhere.

A deal was made with my trucker, and we were in business. I was an official hay broker. Our joint efforts brought eight semis of hay from the Midwest and one truck of premium Alfalfa from Montana to our sun-scorched Texas. I was even offered a job from a trucking firm who remarked they had never seen anyone move so fast and know so many people nationwide to get a job done. I was “making hay” and the “hay ride” was beyond what others could believe.

My favorite line was “Hay there?,” as I sought new suppliers of hay. My favorite song became “Hay Jude” and some of my favorite authors—Jack Hayford and Tim Le’Hay. Oh yes, and my favorite chips—Frito-Hays.

What seemed udderly impossible and out of nothing, God produced something.  Perhaps the grass on the other side of where you stand might not be greener, but it might be for sale.

When opportunities come knocking—open the door! You might like what you see.

When you choose to look past the horizon… the sky is the limit!