One of my dad’s most prized possessions in his life time was his tool chest. It looked something like the image above, only his was spotless. He took care of the tools of his trade as a mechanic. I remember when I was very young, Daddy worked in Fayetteville at a dealership. He wore white coveralls. Like a physician headed into surgery, my Daddy always came home as clean as when he left. He took the time to clean up, so that he wouldn’t have an even greater mess to attend to when he was done. He knew every nut, bolt, screwdriver, wrench and socket that he owned, and every time that he used one, he always took the time to clean it before it made it’s way to the proper drawer, and spot in the chest.
After he left the dealership, his tools made their way to his shop at the house. Surely he wouldn’t know if mama used his hammer if she put it back when she was finished. After all, she didn’t have all day to search for the one we kept in the house. I’ll never forget the look on her face when daddy asked who had been in his tool chest. He just knew. Call it sixth sense, or coincidence, but you have to realize that those tools were his livelihood, and it was a great part of what made daddy the provider in our family.
After mama confessed that day, I couldn’t recall even one incident of her going into his tool chest until after his death.
We didn’t have much in the way of material possessions while we were growing up, but I never did feel deprived, because what little we did have, was a treasure to us. Daddy instilled values in us, and he didn’t realize what values he had given to us, but now, after more than thirty years, I find myself searching out those precious treasures that I never paid much attention to before. I do miss my daddy the way he laughed before the alcohol overtook him. No matter what mistakes he made throughout my childhood, he was my daddy, and I loved him to distraction. I remember marching myself into his sitting room when he was sober, to watch Gunsmoke with him so he wouldn’t be sitting alone.
It didn’t even matter that just a few hours before he may have turned the table over in an alcoholic rage. That was then, and this was now, a brief time that I could forget that he was any other person than my Daddy who always knew how to make us laugh together. For that, I am grateful that the Lord helped us to keep building that relationship.
We all make mistakes; but we can also overcome them, through Jesus Christ. Click on the link below for this week’s Lattereign.