The Brand on My Hide

Have you ever experienced a time when you thought someone would react to a particular situation in an assumed manner, but their response turned out to be surprisingly different?  An event happened in my life, that looms so large in my mind that it seems it happened yesterday. It left it’s brand on my hide – never to be forgotten.

As I was growing up on the ranch, all three of us kids were expected to work in the hayfield. Dad started us out as soon as our legs were long enough that we could effectively and safely use the clutch. To the best of my recollection, it was my second year of raking when my parents purchased their first “brand-new” piece of equipment. The first day we got it, the family raced outside to admire the new dump rake. We oohed and aahed over the bright red hubs and the yellow spokes of the metal wheels. I was especially enamored with the new piece of equipment because I would be the one to use it.

I was very cautious the first few days I used the new rake. I was particularly careful not to drop a wheel off the steep banks of the river that snaked through our meadows. By the end of the week, I became over confident in my abilities. When it came time to move from one meadow to another, I made the decision to pull the rake between two huge cottonwood trees rather than make the longer trip around the grove. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen Dad maneuver the old rake between those same two trees.  What I hadn’t accounted for was Dad’s experience. I remember so wishing I could go back and make that decision over, instead of staring at the brightly colored wheel, now mangled and wrapped around the ungiving trunk of that big cottonwood.

I could see Dad in the distance, sweeping up the windrows of mowed grasses on this next meadow. I was in fear of the disappointment I would provoke as I trudged slowly, eyes downcast, across the meadow toward him.

As soon as he spotted me, he throttled the International M down and waited for me to approach. When I neared the back tire of his tractor, he leaned down from his seat.

“Got trouble?” he asked with a reassuring smile that made me wish more than ever that I had chosen to go around the grove. I nodded and spilled out my story – anxious to get it over with.

With only a momentary frown crossing his face, he replied calmly, “It could have happened to anyone. Jump on,” he nodded towards the tow bar, “let’s go see what we can do about it.”

My Dad taught me that day what GRACE  looks like. He extended kindness to an unworthy daughter. A daughter by the way, who continues to give thanks on a daily basis for the parents that raised her.

Many sons and daughters don’t have earthly fathers that would react the way my father did. But, there is a Father that is waiting to bless us despite the fact that we do not deserve it. Anyone that acknowledges Jesus as their Savior, can experience GRACE through our heavenly Father. And that’s a mighty blessing!

Until next month, keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.

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(If  this type of writing appeals to you, check out my book page on this same site.)