Paying the Price
Yes, I do have a history. We all have a history. To other people your history might be interesting, but to each of us our individual history is normal.
I've never learned how to rope a steer—or anything else. I tried to rope a fence post several times, but the post always got away.
The reason for that may be lack of talent, lack of persistence, or perhaps the fence post was faster than I was. Whatever the reason the post was safe as long as I was the roper.
I can still ride and shoot. So I guess I'm fine if I'm chasing the bad guy across the prairie.
Old Fuzzy and I began spending Sundays with Grandpa and Grandma once a month when we were dating. We would go over and play a couple of games of Canasta and spend several hours. Afterwards we would have a bit of ice cream and head on home.
We increased our visits as we got older until in the 1980's we would spend Sunday afternoons with them.
When Grandma developed something similar to dementia, we could no longer play Canasta, however
we still continued our Sunday visits.
We'd take over lunch in the crock-pot along with a dessert. Grandpa at times would entertain us with stories from 'way back when'. Sometimes we'd watch Maverick.
It was still pleasant and gave them something to look forward to every week. I also could gauge or monitor what they needed, and how they were getting along.
Grandpa and Grandma had been a home for my sister and I. We both knew where we would have ended up without them.
When Grandpa's car needed a new muffler, my sister sent me the money, and I made sure it got fixed. Even so, we never could repay them for what they gave us.
There are several threads running in my head. The first is the symbol of the cross of Christ. The symbol of God reaching down and humans reaching up through Christ.
The other one is a recent writing about 'the man that dries your tears is the one you left hanging on the cross'.
The latter hit me hard as I thought about the times I've fallen short. Not only have I fallen short, but in all honesty, until I lay this life down I'm not done falling short.
I am reminded daily of the publican and pharisee:
Luke 18:13 "But the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote his breast, saying, God, be thou merciful to me a sinner."
Romans 5:6 "For while we were yet weak, in due season Christ died for the ungodly. 7) For scarcely for a righteous man will one die: for peradventure for the good man some one would even dare to die. 8) But God commendeth his own love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. 9) Much more then, being now justified by his blood, shall we be saved from the wrath of God through him."
