Weary Woodcutter’s Winter Lament
Momma and Dub worked hard to provide for our family. They were good people, young, in love, and they loved us kids. They were, neither of them, perfect. Like me, they were not even close. Curiously, to my mind these several decades later, though it is fair to say that neither of them were perfect, it is also entirely correct to say that they were more perfect, together than either of them were, individually.
I think back to the words of the prophet, Nephi who, in introducing himself in the Book of Mormon, wrote, “I Nephi, having been born of goodly parents…” Be patient with me, we aren’t about to have church today. He wished immediately to convey a sense of who he was to the reader. Who we are, particularly, in our youth, really does begin with where we are from, who our folks are.
Nephi was a Jew fleeing to a Land of Promise prior to the destruction of, Israel. He would go on to become a great leader of his future people. He would see and do extraordinary things. But, there, in that moment, he wasn’t yet the prophet, Nephi. He was still just, Nephi, a son of Lehi and Sariah.
In Sunday School we are often encouraged to “liken ourselves to the scriptures.” That is a fancy way of saying, put yourself in the place of those about whom you are reading.
They like to talk real fancy at church. Do that do at your church? Whew boy, they sure do it at mine. You should come sometime and listen to them. So dang fancy!
Its good stuff, to be sure, if occasionally laid on a little thick… and fancy.
I’ve done it of course, likened myself unto the scriptures, I mean. Sometimes it is wonderfully useful. Other times, it just serves to demonstrate to me how very, very far from the scriptural ideal my life is, was, and most likely, will ever be. But then, perhaps that is the point. Maybe when we do this we are meant to gain personal insight into our mortal state as compared to some ideal that we can then aspire to.
Let me try it here: “I, Hank, having been born of goodly parents, therefore I was taught somewhat in all the learning of my father, and having seen many afflictions in the course of my days, nevertheless, having been highly favored of the Lord in all my days; yea, having had a great knowledge of the goodness and the mysteries of God, therefore I make a record of my proceedings in my days.”
Huh, I’ll be. I was prepared to write as to how that felt silly. In fact though, it sorta felt right. I won’t dwell further on it. Rather, I will carry on with the record of my proceedings in my days.
Still, pretty fancy, huh...
Momma and Dub worked hard to feed, clothe, and shelter us. Dub was a coal miner. Momma was usually a work-in-the-home mother. With four children to tend to, corral, and provide for, both of them worked hard.
I often felt that Dub was addicted to hard work. He spent twelve hours each workday in the mine. He worked four on and three off then three on and four off. When he wasn’t working mining coal, he was working during what were, ostensibly, his off hours in other ways that usually involved working our farm. We raised watermelons commercially, a huge garden that fed our family and other families too, and we kept beef cattle.
Aside from the mine and our farm, Dub cut wood to heat our home and to sell to members of our community. He hired himself out to build barbed wire fence. He had a lot of irons in the fire.
By the time I was just about eight years old, maybe just a little earlier than that, Dub started taking me with him. Where ever he was going, whatever work he was doing, I was right there with him.
I hated it.
To hear this podcast in full, please click on the link up top. I hope you enjoy part 1 of this two part episode of the Hank Griffin Podcast.
Much Love,
Hank
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