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About Jesus - Steve (Stephen) Sweetman I
Am My Father's Son I hear parents say
"he (or she) sure didn't get that from me."
Genetically speaking, he or she is more like their parents than
what their parents are willing to admit.
He or she probably did get that from his or her parents.
It's a matter of DNA. So
yes, I am my father's son, and my never-asked-for long nose proves that.
"Steve looks just like Clifford," they say.
Sure, dad never had long hair and a beard like me, but if he was
raised in the 1960's as I was, I'm sure he would have had long hair and a
beard. Dad loved country music
with its intoxicating soothing sound of the steel guitar that he played
with perfection. That's why I
love the steel guitar and have a tough time withholding a tear in
remembrance of dad whenever I hear it being played.
Like dad, I play the guitar, but I am not as good as he was, which
reminds me of the fourth saddest moment of my life.
It was in May 2001, just two weeks before dad died.
He told me to pull out his beloved 1975 Martin D35 guitar so I
could keep for myself, and that after he had given me his triple-neck,
early 1950's National steel guitar and his 1980 Dobro.
After playing my Martin D35 in 1975, he gave me the money to buy
him one, which now sits beside mine.
Willie Nelson wrote the
song "Family Bible" in 1957.
I recall hearing it on dad's Porter Wagoner album in the early
1960's. Little did dad know
that Willie Nelson would become one of his son's country favourites.
Dad was never late for
anything, and neither have I been late for anything, unless someone has
made me late. Dad was highly
organized, as I am. He always
kept masking tape on hand because he viewed it as a fix-all, just as I
seem to do. Dad was an
independent, do-it-myself guy, and that's why I'll try doing it myself
before I ask for help. Dad
studied his Bible, as I've done since 1970, although I've had good study
tools he never had.
I've been legally blind
since birth, having four percent of normal vision, which I inherited from
dad. Most all the nerves
behind my eyes sending the visual images to my brain are dead.
Dad saw better than me, and so he could drive a car and hold down
a job, but not me. Like dad, I was
diagnosed with prostate cancer. Unlike
dad who didn't have his prostate removed, I did.
His cancer spread and he died within five years at the age of
seventy seven. I am my
father's son, and so at the age of seventy two, I wonder about my day of
departure. Do I need to write
more? I could. As Christians who have
experienced a second birth, our
heavenly Father's DNA resides within us via His Spirit. So I ask,
"are you your Father's son or daughter, exhibiting His DNA
characteristics? Might He ever
say, he (or she) never got that from me?"
Post
Script The saddest time in my
life was when my two little boys had to hear their mother (my first wife) tell them she
was leaving our family home. The
second saddest moment in my life was the day after dad's funeral when my
sister and I moved mom from her family home forever, only to relocate to a
nursing home. The third
saddest time in my life was when at the age of sixty four our dog Jesse,
my first pet, sat on my lap as my wife drove us to the vet to say our
final good-bye to our precious little friend.
The day dad gave me his beloved 1975 Martin D35 guitar, then, ranks
as the fourth saddest day of my life.
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