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The Man—Made in
God’s Image
The man was tired and stressed from all
the farm work
his back hurt, his feet were tired
The work days were long, the pay meager
at best
as he struggled to make every move count
in those dark days
of depression after World War II.
He was glad his thrifty wife was good at
finding the most tender stalks of wild
collard greens
which grew along the fence, she
could make a meal from them cooked with
smoked ham,
along with hot corn bread
taste like a heavenly feast—
And he had two young sons to help—-
strong sons they were
but boys still.
The man needed to get the field work done
that day,
He instructed his sons to weed the rows
of lima beans
While he plowed the next field getting it
ready to plant,
but young boys don’t always see the
big picture.
It was hot and the shade of the big old
elm
tree beckoned.
Now the man was a good father, an honest
man, and kind
But as he saw the sun slipping slightly
toward the West
and observed the un-hoed rows of Limas
waiting while the boys played—
frustration took over—and anger too.
His ultimatum was loud and firm:
“You boys get to work and get all
those weeds
pulled before sundown or you will both
get a whipping.”
But the man was not given to hitting his
sons
And he regretted his words when they were
scarcely out of his mouth.
He got on his tractor but his eyes kept
wandering
over to his sons and he saw them working
hard
but he saw how that in spite of their
frenzied moving hands,
the end of the two rows were still a
long, long
way ahead of them.
As the sun continued on its journey,
sinking
steadily toward the west, the man
suddenly stopped the tractor
in mid field and ran to his sons side.
He began weeding furiously beside them
until all the weeds were pulled and
the rows neat and clean as two happy boys
and one grateful father
walked arm in arm into the house,
the smell of supper coming from the
kitchen
and the warm welcoming smile of the woman
who was mother and wife. —Freda Zehr,
Wilmington, Delaware. When her husband,
Vernon Zehr Jr. (one of those sons) told
Freda this story of his childhood memory
of his father, Vernon Zehr Sr., she
thought of our heavenly father.
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