By the time they were done, their savings had been spent in daily survival. Either farmers aren't particularly rich, or he ran into one who lacked in generosity of any form. If I remember correctly, they were given all the eggs and potatoes they could eat and a place to live. Mom said they nearly froze to death the first winter. It was a learning experience. Dad never did become a farmer. Instead he got a job in the city of Rochester, and they eventually bought a little ranch house on a concrete slab, raised a family, and grew a garden. When he got the hankering for cattle, hay, and the smell of manure, we took a ride down to Uncle Joe's in Caneadea, NY, not too far from Houghton College. (That's the backroads trip I want to take.)
In a way, Dad's backyard garden was his farm. We didn't have cows or chickens, a tractor or manure spreader, but we did the best vegetable garden on the block, which once in a while included a hot pile of manure cooling for a summer. Our manure spreader was Dad, with a wheelbarrow and a shovel, our barns were the sheds he built to fill with firewood to warm the house throughout the long winters, and our animals included a dachshund named Katie and here and there a cat.
Death is the scary sentence that each one of us face. Our crime? Simply having been born an imperfect being in a fallen and imperfect world to imperfect parents. No amount of hard work or bargaining will remove the certainty that comes with time, time that flies by faster with each year that passes. It's almost as if we gain momentum as we go.
It was a busy weekend, a good kind of busy weekend. Hannah and I drove to Auburn to fetch Joe and bring him home for the weekend. He doesn't have to work until Tuesday evening and I decided to seize the moment while I had opportunity. I did not go grocery shopping, neither did I go to the bank. Maybe I'll do that tomorrow... My cupboards look pretty full, but I could use a new box of trash bags and maybe some French vanilla coffee creamer... maybe.
Sunday afternoon our kids brought over a Father's Day picnic lunch and we had some family time. (Two picnics in two days!!!) We had chicken, bacon cheese burgers, salt potatoes, corn on the cob, baked beans, and watermelon. It was a good day.
It was not only Father's Day here, it was also Nathan's 21st birthday. We had the traditional strawberry shortcake after our cookout. The back porch was rescued just in time.
Words elude me tonight... I am thankful today for a wedding anniversary to distract me from the ache that otherwise most certainly would have set in. I am thankful for my dear husband and the twenty-nine years we have spent together, there is no question about that, but a first Father's Day without a father cannot help but be a little bit emotional. This year James and I are both without our fathers.
As I brought up the subject, my dad glossed over whatever embarrassment he must have felt at the time. Instead he focused on the reaction of the town clerk. "You're Martha's father?" she asked him.
What an awesome privilege to be a child of God! I am thankful for my earthly father, I am blessed by the father of my children, but I am in awe of my Heavenly Father! As he draws me into a closer walk with Him, as He changes my heart and mind and tunes my thoughts to His, I am blessed. So, this Father's Day, as my husband is away spending time with his earthly father, I give thanks to my Savior for loving me, for forgiving me, for making me His child, and for walking beside me day by day. I know He loves me and what could be better than that?!
Thank you, Lord God, for the gift of a dad. I can't imagine life without him, although I realize there are many who have never known a father's love. For this reason I am all the more greatful. Not only did You give me a dad, but he is the kind of dad I can be proud of, a dad who constantly models the love of my Heavenly Father, one who has loved me unconditionally though hurt and happiness. I wish all the world could have a dad like mine.
Another Father's Day has come and gone. We had a lovely picnic at Rachel's house and mostly spent the time relaxing and talking together. It's too bad I let these special days sneak up on me when there are so many ways I appreciate my dad. He has been a constant source of love and encouragement throughout my life, always nearby to lend a helping hand or give sound advice, consistantly setting a godly example, and never backing down from what he knows is right. On summer nights when I was a little girl he would wash my face, neck and arms in the bathroom sink, then set me up on his knee to scrub the dust from my dirty feet before tucking me into bed at night. Sometimes he read stories or drew pictures for us. There was music when he played his guitar and harmonica and plenty of songs. Sometimes he got down on the floor to play "rough stuff" or threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. We always said our prayers before going to sleep at night and good night kisses were never forgotten. I never worried that my dad wouldn't come home at night or what condition he would be in when he arrived. What we learned in Sunday school he lived in his day to day life. And though he's grown older with the years he continues to set that same example for all us today.
