A Cold Winter's Night
There was only one twin bed so I rolled out of my sleeping bag on the floor next to him and we talked and laughed and even prayed together into the wee hours. I had only a little wood stove to heat that poorly insulated shack and only some kiln-dried rafter remnants from the saw mill where I worked to stuff it with. So I crawled out of the sack every couple of hours and stoked the fire to keep from freezing to death.
That night the temperature dropped well below zero. But it was a good night. That old stove hissed, crackled and roared through the night. We soaked in the warmth of the fire and our hearts were made warm by knowing and loving each other again - father and son. We laid there with only the sound of the fire and the howling winter wind, eyes wide open and smiles on our faces. In that cold dark January night we met together like the prodigal son and his running father and God was there and He smiled too.
In the morning - I had to get to work and dad had to get back to the Cities. We stopped at a gas station along the highway and said good bye. When he drove away to the south I actually wept. My heart, which had been hard toward him for all those years had melted and I was sad to see him go.
I guess I had to come home again for leaving home to matter.
More to follow...
I was living alone in a little cabin on a farm east of Sebeka, MN in the early winter of 1974 and my father came for a visit. We hadn't spent time together alone for 15 years. I was 27 and he was 67.
There was only one twin bed so I rolled out of my sleeping bag on the floor next to him and we talked and laughed and even prayed together into the wee hours. I had only a little wood stove to heat that poorly insulated shack and only some kiln-dried rafter remnants from the saw mill where I worked to stuff it with. So I crawled out of the sack every couple of hours and stoked the fire to keep from freezing to death.
That night the temperature dropped well below zero. But it was a good night. That old stove hissed, crackled and roared through the night. We soaked in the warmth of the fire and our hearts were made warm by knowing and loving each other again - father and son. We laid there with only the sound of the fire and the howling winter wind, eyes wide open and smiles on our faces. In that cold dark January night we met together like the prodigal son and his running father and God was there and He smiled too.
In the morning - I had to get to work and dad had to get back to the Cities. We stopped at a gas station along the highway and said good bye. When he drove away to the south I actually wept. My heart, which had been hard toward him for all those years had melted and I was sad to see him go.
I guess I had to come home again for leaving home to matter.
More to follow...
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