My father loved me, and my uncle loved my cousins. And both fathers were concerned about us kids.
Now, I always knew that dad would take care of me and didn’t like for me to get hurt. He’d even whipped me once for sassing Mom and then slamming the door. I knew he needed to; I expected him to do it. I knew he would feed me and keep me around. I just expected him to do it, but it had never dawned on me before that he loved me, besides.
My dad and uncle talked about how this punishment was affecting us and I heard my dad describing how my finger tips were going to split and my fingernails were going to come off and how I’d cry out in my sleep when they would rub on the homemade feed sack sheets.
I heard my uncle saying how bad he felt about his kids having to walk 1 1/2 miles and back to school, and then 2 1/2 miles to our house and back after dark.
They decided there was no way they could lift this burden off us. If they did, we might expect help with every job, or not expect to have to finish every job.
Our moral character was at stake, and the influence of the whole punishment would be lost if they stepped in and lent a hand in any way. I don’t remember the rest, but I know we finished it up in a couple of Sunday afternoons and my fingers healed. But the lesson has stayed with me over the years, but also the realization that another father many years earlier had suffered for his child, as our fathers for us. All three fathers wanted to take the burden off their children’s shoulder, but didn’t dare.
Luke 22:42, “Father, if thou art willing, remove this cup from me; never the less not my will; but thine be done, Jesus said kneeling in the garden.”
Too many things depended on Jesus being crucified on the cross. Too many lives were to be influenced by it. God loved his son. Can you imagine the pain it caused him to allow this to happen? He didn’t dare change the order of procedure. This had to be done clear through to the end. The boy would be in the arising and eternal life.
Our fathers saw us through the incident and suffered loving concern for us all the way, wishing every minute they could lift the burden without changing the outcome. So did another father wish he could lift the burden from his son, but couldn’t.
I got up off the edge of the bed and went back to work cleaning the storeroom. My father is dead now. And my uncle is dead, but the other father lives forever.
◊◊◊
Editor’s note: Edith Lammey has been a resident of the area for nearly 40 years. The article was originally published April 15,1987, by editor Cal Beisner.
Opinion, Pages 4 on 04/24/2013