Just Write {148}

August 12, 2014

 

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The screen door would slam, bang! and then it would clap bang, bang, bang, bang, four more times, softer and softer, before resting behind him. He was heading out for chicken chores, gathering eggs and feeding the flock. Then he’d come back.

BANG, bang bang bang…bang…

He would wash the eggs and make himself some, set the rest to dry.

He would come to the living room, wake the grand kids on the hide-a-bed with a kiss and a hug and a too-hard pat on the cheek. It was more like a slap but they never told him it hurt a little. There was so much love behind it, this boy and girl knew that he meant no harm. A bursting love sometimes causes a heavy hand accidentally. GOOD MORNING!!

He would eat and listen to AM radio and then back out the door for more chores he would go, with less force this time. BANG, bang..bang…

The garden, the bees, the mowing, the trees. The grapes, the fixing, the farming.

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Many days he’d head over to neighbor Esther’s, since she lived alone. He’d mow and fix, for her. He took care of things for her because he could and would, and that is how you teach children to have a heart of service. You do it.

His grandson, just a boy then, would get up not long after the kiss and hug and hard “pat” on the cheek and he would rush out. He always wanted to help. Never sat still. Never stopped. Always learning, asking, following, doing…

BANG, bang bang bang bang

And when you grow up under a patient man’s routine, advice, service and morning too-hard pats on the cheek, every day bangs away at your heart, chiseling it out to be like his.



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