His Children Thursday
Posted by: bigguyhereagain <bigguyhereagain@...>
There was once a dad who had a three-year-old son
named Brandon. One day, Brandon sees his dad eating
chocolate chip cookies in the living room and says to
himself, "Daddy loves chocolate chip cookies with
milk. So I'm going to give Daddy a glass of milk."
With that thought Brandon goes into the dining room
and drags a chair from the dining room into the
kitchen, leaving a trail of scratch marks on the
floor.
Brandon climbs up on the chair and hitches himself
onto the counter to pull at the cabinet door. Wham! It
smashes against the adjacent cabinet door, leaving a
gash where the handle hit it. Brandon reaches for a
glass, accidentally knocking two others off the shelf.
Crash! Tinkle! Tinkle! But Brandon doesn't care. He's
thinking, "I'm going to get Daddy some milk!"
Meanwhile, Brandon's dad is watching all this,
wondering if he should step in and save the rest of
his kitchen. He decides, for the moment, to watch a
little more as Brandon scrambles off the chair,
dodging the pieces of broken glass, and heads for the
refrigerator.
Pulling violently on the refrigerator door, Brandon
flings it wide open - and it stays open, of course.
Brandon puts the glass on the floor - out of harm's
way, supposedly - and grabs, not the little half
gallon of milk, but the big gallon container that is
full of milk. He rips open the top, pours it in the
vicinity of the glass, and even manages
to get somemilk in the glass. The rest goes all over
the floor.
Finally done, Brandon puts the milk carton on the
floor and picks up the glass yelling, "Daddy, I got
something for you!" He runs into the living room,
trips, and spills milk all over the place - the floor,
the sofa, his dad.
Brandon stands up and looks around. He sees broken
glass, milk everywhere, cabinets open, his dad with
milk from his eyebrows to his toes, and starts to cry.
Through his tears., he looks up at his dad with that
pained expression that says, "What are you going to do
to me?"
His dad only smiles. He doesn't see a kid that just
destroyed his house. Instead he sees a beautiful
little boy whom he loves very much. It doesn't matter
what he's done. Brandon's dad stretches his arms out
to hold his little boy tight and says, "This is my
son!"
When we talk about God as our Father, the kind of
father we're talking about is Brandon's father. God is
a father who loves us unconditionally, even though we
make a real mess of things. Jesus told a similar story
about another son who messed up. We call the story
"The Son". It also could be called "The Parable of the
Loving Father" because, just like Brandon's dad, the
father in the story threw his arms around his son and
said, "This is my son!" (See Luke 15:11-32)
***********************
"You've Got To Believe"
"Do you think we can save him?" the young boy asked.
"I don't know. He's in bad shape. I don't believe we
can," another boy added.
"You've got to believe. We need him. He's important
you know," the youngest child said. "He's the
Christmas Snowman."
"It'll take some work, but we can do it," the first
child replied.
Just a few days before they had worked for hours
creating the perfect Christmas snowman. It was a town
tradition to have one there in the park for the big
day. Warmer temperatures, a little rain and wind had
sadly carved away some of the finer points of this
work of art. His hat was missing, only one eye
remained and his carrot nose apparently made for a
tasty lunch for some hungry rabbits.
"But there isn't much snow to work with," another
child added.
Much of the snow nearby had melted.
"Look over there, Old man Jeffries yard has plenty of
snow. The sun doesn't shine over there," the first
child.
"I'm not going there. He's mean."
"Then we'll never get it done!"
The three boys sat quietly on a nearby bench just a
few feet away from the snowman.
Suddenly the youngest boy spoke up. "I'll go ask him.
I'll go see Old man Jeffries. He can't be that
mean!"
The older boys were amazed at his bravery. "Are you
sure you want to do this?"
"Maybe he'll lock you up and you'll miss Christmas,"
one boy said.
"Oh, go on. It's just snow. What's he going to do
with it, anyway?" the youngest replied.
The two boys stayed on the bench and watched as the
youngest cut through the trees that separated the park
from the man's yard.
The child walked up on the porch and knocked on the
door.
In what seemed like an eternity, the old man finally
came to the door.
The brave boy's friends jumped to their feet in
anticipation. Not so much ready to run to his aid,
but ready to run away screaming in fear. There was
really nothing to fear at all. The stories of the old
man were local tales made up in the minds of children
with more imagination than sense.
The door closed and the young boy ran toward his
friends.
"Is he coming after us?" one child yelled.
"No, he's coming to help us," the child replied.
"No way!"
"He went to get his coat and a wheel barrel. He has
two shovels and will meet us outside in a minute."
The youngest boy ran back to the house while the other
two walked slowly, cautiously toward him.
"Come on, you slow pokes," the old man yelled. "We've
got some snow man building to do."
One by one they loaded the wheel barrel with as much
snow as they could handle. Mr. Jeffries gathered a
few pieces of coal for the eyes, a new carrot and an
old hat he had in the closet.
"I never thought...well...it's just that I thought you
were mean," the oldest boy said.
Mr. Jeffries just laughed at him.
"Why did you want to help us?" the other one asked.
"I have lived in that small house for many years and I
have enjoyed watching the neighborhood children build
a snowman in this exact spot each year just before
Christmas. It's a tradition, you know. I was worried
about him this year, too. I watched him crumbling and
melting away the last few days. I knew he had to make
it for Christmas. I would sneak out late at night
each year and keep the other snowmen in shape. No one
ever knew it. I'm not supposed to be doing things
like this. They tell me I'm too old, but if you
didn't fix the snowman I would have tried by myself,"
he said.
"Well, we did it together," the youngest said.
The four of them stood proudly in front the newest and
biggest snowman that town had ever seen.
"Excellent!" Mr. Jeffries said.
"Excellent!" the boys all said in agreement.
"Well, I better get home," one boy said.
"Me too," added another.
"It is Christmas Eve. You better get ready for
Santa," Mr. Jeffries added.
Then waving goodbye they all went their separate ways.
In the early afternoon on Christmas Day, the youngest
boy headed for the park to meet his friends.
He had a brand new sled and a brand new friend he
wanted to share it with. Old man Jeffries.
As he approached the park he could hear sirens. His
friends were standing on Mr. Jeffries front porch.
"What's wrong?" the youngest yelled.
"It's old man Jeffries...he needs help!"
"Look out. Clear the way!" the medic screamed.
The three boys stood just outside the door.
"Is he okay?" the young boy asked. "Is he okay?"
There was an odd silence in the room. Mr. Jeffries,
barely responding, turned his head toward the boy and
smiled.
"I made it till Christmas...just like the snowman," he
whispered.
"Do you think we can save him?" one man asked.
"I don't know. He's in bad shape. I don't believe we
can."
"You've got to believe. We need him. He's important
you know," the young boy said crying.
"He saved the Christmas snowman," he added.
They rushed him away in the ambulance.
It wasn't until later that day that they got the word.
Mr. Jeffries had died.
But, there is a magic in Christmas unlike any other
day.
It has been twenty five years since that day and until
this very Christmas it is an annual event, a
competition of sorts, to build the best Christmas
Snowman in what has officially become "Old Jeffries
Park."
You see, that young boy grew up to be the Mayor.
Ask him how and he'll reply, "You've got to believe!"
By Bob Perks
***********************
Have a Blessed Day
Dave and Barbara
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