It was a cool day in October. I was standing in the backyard of my parents' home. My Dad had asked me to put up a snow fence that ran across one side of the backyard. My parents' home was at the end of the street and surrounded by farmland on three sides. During the winter months, the wind would blow across the open farmland and pile snow on their driveway. Putting up the snow fence limited the amount of snow that would pile up in the driveway.
My Dad was concerned that he would not be able to get the fence up before winter. By this time my Dad had been fighting cancer for several months and his physical strength had diminished. The chemo treatments along with the aggressive nature of the cancer had zapped his body of energy and muscle mass. Sleeping and feeling tired occurred a lot for my Dad most days. Yet he knew what was happening to him and the more than likely outcome. And he also knew that winter would soon arrive. He had become concerned that without the snow fence, the driveway could become a hazard for my mom.
So there I stood. In the backyard of my parent's home on a cool October afternoon. Wondering how in the world this Georgia boy was supposed to put up a snow fence. I should note that at the time my parents lived in their hometown of Scottdale, PA. It can snow a lot in the winter in Scottdale. I found the items I would need for this little project in my parents' tool shed. I found some rope, some metal stakes, and a sledgehammer. Also found the rolled-up snow fence.
The fence was an orange vinyl safety fence that stood about four feet high and rolled out about ten to twelve feet. I tied one end to a tree and then used the metal stakes to hold the rest up. As I was getting the fence tied off around the tree I was surprised to see my Dad make it outside. He hadn't been up and moving in a while. He reached down and picked up one of the metal stakes and told me that he would hold it while I drove it into the ground with the sledgehammer. We did that a few times and before you knew it the fence was up. Yet I noticed that my Dad was tired. What was a small amount of energy to stand and hold the metal stake was just a bit much for my Dad. Yet he had somehow gathered up all of his physical energy just to hold the metal stakes for a few moments. That little bit of activity had left him depleted.
It was one of those moments when I was disabused of the superhero status of my Dad. As a kid, my Dad seemed to know everything and seemed to be able to do anything. Many of us as kids thought that our parents were some kind of superhero. Yet what I saw was not the superhero I remembered from my childhood. His body was failing him. It was disconcerting. It made me uncomfortable. It made me sad.
This would be the last project that my Dad and I would accomplish together. Growing up we all play some kind of a role in our family of origin. Maybe you were the clown and used your humor to offset the conflict within your family so that things, for you, would be okay. Perhaps you were the connector. The person who attempted to keep up with what everyone was doing while often ignoring your needs and issues.
Possibly you were the black sheep of the family. The black sheep in the family system tend to become the one who is blamed for all of the family dysfunction. In other words, you get all the family guilt and shame. Maybe you were your Father’s or Mother’s little helper. You were the good kid who did what was asked of you and never really complained. Often being the good kid is a way to overcompensate for truly feeling inadequate. Whatever kind of family you grew up with there was a role that you played.
I was a good kid. I was my Father’s helper. He and I had done all kinds of projects together. Woodworking projects, church plays, Christmas and Easter choir productions. We even helped teach a VBS class one summer. He had trained me on how to run a soundboard and on a few occasions I was the sound guy for his college choir. There were lots of things that we had done together but this would be the last. A snow fence. A simple little orange snow fence.
That simple little snow fence became a significant moment. I was smacked in the face with the fact that Dad was going to die. He was not going to survive. He was making this effort to show his love and care. It was a way for my Dad to say “I love you” by providing for his family. It was my Dad’s way to care for my Mom, to be of service, to feel useful, and to do something with one of his children that didn't revolve around his cancer treatments.
It was one of those father and son moments when you just kind of look at each other. No words are needed. It was one of those pure moments in life. I was overwhelmed with the preciousness of life. I was reminded that someday that was going to be me. Someday I would be the one facing the next part of my journey beyond this world.
There I stood. In my parent's backyard. On a cool October afternoon overwhelmed by the gift of life and love while putting up a snow fence. Life is like that. We could probably all tell a story of the moment or moments when we have been overwhelmed by the gift of life. What I hope for myself and for you is that we might pay attention to the preciousness of life. Our own life and the lives of those around us. Significant life moments are all around us if we would but take the time to appreciate them.
The crazy thing is we know this! We have heard that sentiment before. And yet somehow we miss real life affirming beautiful moments around us all the time. Regretfully we are, more often than not, distracted. Worried about a host of things that we have no influence or control over. Concerned about matters that truly do not matter. We go to bed exhausted chasing after some concept of living and forget to actually live.
Life is short. Life is a precious gift. The master teacher and author of the book of Ecclesiastes would agree. The master teacher of Ecclesiastes would also remind us to enjoy life now! Appreciate life now! Don’t wait! If you are alive then it is a really good day!
After I hammered in the last metal stake my Dad smiled and said “It looks good.” He headed back inside and I put the tools up. That completed my last project with my Dad. A snow fence but so much more. A reminder of the precious gift of life.
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