The Old Line Messenger An Old Line Primitive Baptist Website |
Calloused Hands by Elder Brian Moore The young man closed the door behind him. The gust of winter wind sent a chill down his fathers' spine, as the flames flickered in the fireplace. "Son, where have you been? It must be nine o'clock!" The young man slowly pulled the laces of his boots apart, "been choppin' wood dad." The old man settled back into his chair. "How much did ol' man Parsons pay you?" "You know he ain't got no money dad, I did it for nuthin, besides he'd freeze to death if somebody didn't chop that wood fer him." The young man settled into the chair next to his father and began looking at his hands. "What's wrong boy, what you lookin' at?" The young man moved his hands to his side and quickly changed the subject. "Have you seen my bible?" His father took off his glasses and handed the young man the tattered and torn book. The young man slowly turned the pages and pretended to read, his eyes ever watching his father. The old man moved over to the edge of his seat, "boy, show me yer hands!" The young man slowly closed the bible and held out his right hand and then slowly his left. The father began to squint and reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his glasses. As he slightly held the young mans hands in his, he realized that the he was no longer the little boy that he once knew, his hands were nearly as big and strong as his. The father squeezed the boys' hands and the boy flinched, "does that hurt," the father asked. "A little bit, but it ain't nothing, I'm used to it." The father began to caress the young boys hands and gently traced the calloused hands with his finger. The corner of the young mans' hand was bruised and a trace of blood could be seen throughout his palm. The young man dared say a word, he could tell that his father was in deep thought. In the flickering firelight the boy noticed a shimmer on his fathers cheek, then a single tear rolled down his face. The father looked up with moist eyes and removed his glasses. He managed to do so without ever letting go of his sons' hand. The boy, saddened and perplexed, asked "dad why are you crying?" The old man smiled and then asked the boy a question, never answering the one posed to him. "Son doesn't that hurt? Why do you go to such trouble and then receive nothing in return?" The young man looked his father in the eyes and held out both hands. He said "dad, these places on my hand hurt real bad, sometimes I can't even write when I go to school, sometimes I can't even stand to turn the pages in this here book." The father sat quietly staring at the young mans hands. "Then why do you do it?" he asked. The young man spoke innocently, "dad, Ol' man Parsons can't do for himself, so I help him out, he can't afford to pay me and I know that, so I just tell him to remember me in prayer." The young man swallowed and with a cracking voice said, " yesterday while I was walking by I heard Ol' man Parsons talking, I went around back to see who he was talking to,.dad,.he was down on his knees talking to the Lord he asked Him to look out for me!" With tears streaming down his face the father calmly said "son, that's the best payment Ol' man Parsons could ever give you." Often we put too much emphasis on what we can do financially or physically for our brethren in need, all the while we forget to do that which is most important. Let us pray with and for one another, for the Lord does indeed hear our prayers and he answers them according to his will and at his time. |
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