There is something to be said for experiencing an interesting childhood. I was at work and heard a story which had the following elements: Dad, brother, uncle, brand new single shot .410 shotgun, BB gun, hunting, and a whiskey still. Apparently the boys were to hunt turkeys while Dad and uncle checked on the still. Big brother took aim at a turkey, fired and blew his father’s hat off of his head. I am giving you the Cliff’s notes version of the story. What you are missing that I got was all of the inflection and “colorful” euphemisms and anecdotes common to areas where stills pock the hillsides still. I found myself thinking as this story was being told, “Man, I wish I had a story like that to tell.”I don’t have any stories like that. It is probably a good thing in the grand scheme that I don’t but it did make me think of the stories I have.
There are things that my father taught me that I have not had much use for. Like a left jab that sets up a right hook or upper cut. He taught me basic maintenance on my car. This I use. But nothing to compare to shooting the hat off your father’s head whilst he is checking on a still. But I did learn things from my parents that are priceless.
My parents showed me a picture of God that endures to this day. They did not paint a picture of an old man on a throne that loves his children. I learned of a God that set everything in motion, galaxies to atoms, spinning exactly the way He intended they should spin. I realized that the God of the big picture is intimately involved in the details also. My dad painted me a picture of Jesus not limited to the flannel story boards of my childhood. For several years he would pick up hitchhikers and give them work and a place to stay. A couple of those guys stayed for a while and became a part of our family. They stayed until the demons that drove them to road in the first place drove them from our home. I wondered why we did this and my father said that you never knew when you were picking up an angel. Neat huh?
I heard about God at church with my grandmother. I began to get to know him under my parents teaching.
My oldest son, Billy, told me something profound the other day. The exchange went like this:
“Hey Dad.”
“Yes Bill.”
"God hears all our prayers.”
“Sweet.”
“God has awesome ears.”
Indeed.
It is doubtful that Billy will have any stories rivaling that related above. But I really hope that both Billy and James Robert get a picture from Kara and me that takes them into adulthood. I hope that the God they see in us is one that is 3 dimensional and real, not 2-D flannel board. These are the profound stories that speak of eternity.
