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BB-JUNE-2024

Seeds of the Father

by Jamison (Jim) Brown


Luke’s father was affectionately known to most in his small hometown as “Seed.” He had a remarkable ability to draw life from the soil, even in times when the rains didn’t come.

Luke didn’t share his father’s love for the land. He saw his father’s life as limiting, resenting the long hours he spent in the fields, the Georgia clay under the fingernails of his calloused hands, and the simplicity of his existence. He longed to escape the monotony of rural life and pursue a career in the bustling city. Wealth and status seemed far more appealing than the simple, hardworking life his father led.

“About ready to go, Luke?” his mother asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I want to get to the church early to make sure everything is like he wanted. I never thought this day would come so soon.”

On the short ride to the memorial service, Luke looked out the window in silence, lost in his thoughts. He saw stalks of corn standing tall in the fields, swaying in rhythm with the breeze, owing their lives to the one who planted and nurtured them, so that one day they could provide sustenance to many. He smelled the breath of the peach orchard, remembering the sweetness of his grandmother’s prize-winning cobbler. His heart swelled with gratitude for the land that he had forsaken, pushed aside by the lure of fool’s gold.

As the fields passed by, Luke’s mind wandered to the countless hours he’d spent in his cramped city apartment, working tirelessly to climb the corporate ladder. The stress and loneliness he’d endured now seemed so trivial compared to the richness of his father’s life, rooted in the land and the community he served.

As the casket was lowered into the ground, the funeral director reached out his hand and said, “Son, this is the key that locked your daddy’s casket.”

His mother turned to him with tear-filled eyes, “I just don’t know how I will take care of all of this, Luke.”

Luke took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his decision lift. “I’m coming home, Mom. I suddenly can’t remember why I ever left.”

Inspired by actual events.

1 Listen, my sons, to a father’s instruction; pay attention and gain understanding. 2 I give you sound learning, so do not forsake my teaching. 3 For I too was a son to my father, still tender, and cherished by my mother.

– Proverbs 4:1-3 NRSV

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Comments(2)

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    Grace Walter says:

    Very poignant and touching. Often we don’t appreciate the “simple” things that meant so much to us as children.Thank you!!

    • Jim
      Reply
      Jim says:

      Thank you, Miss Grace. I appreciate you reading this very much. – Jim

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