Lessons from My Father. The Wheelbarrow. November 9, 2020. Bill MacDonald.
The Wheelbarrow
“When I was a child, I talked like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.”
Dad quoted this verse from First Corinthians 13 to me more than a decade ago when I commented on not minding haying anymore, but these words from verse eleven came back to me this morning as I remembered the wheelbarrow he made.
On my drive to work today, I passed a driveway that had a large handcart at the mouth of it, piled high with bags of trash. The cart had fat, rubber tires, and I imagined it could be pushed as easily over soft ground as on the pavement. Instantly, images of Dad’s wheelbarrow flashed into my head, and shame filled my heart.
“When I was a child…I reasoned like a child.” I recall that I complained excessively as a child, especially about physical labors required of me. They were not harsh measures, just everyday expectations of a growing boy, such as splitting and stacking firewood, mowing the lawn, gathering maple sap, and haying. One result of my plaintive pleas was that Dad made a wheelbarrow to ease the movement of the fruits of my labors. It was truly impressive, and I should have been grateful, but I wasn’t. Instead, I complained even more, because it didn’t have a fat, rubber tire. It had a flat-iron wheel that ran fine on hard surfaces but became hopelessly mired in soft ones. Rather than expressing gratitude to Dad for his creativity and love, I whined all the more that it wasn’t enough. In an instant this morning, all these images and thoughts rushed through me, with shame following in a blast.
In truth, with just a little more effort on my part, that wheelbarrow would have pushed through any mire, or I could have found better paths for it, but in my slothful discontented childishness, it was easier to grumble than to be grateful. Forty years later, I remember with sorrow the sins of my youth. My Father graced me with his gifts, and I responded with ingratitude.
Is that not the way of life? As Dad pointed out, First Corinthians 13 is more famously known for its description of what Love is and is not. Yet, verse 11 is poignant because it challenges us to grow up; not to remain in the “baby Christian” stage of life, always requiring the milk of basic teachings, but to chew on the meat of God’s Word, meditating on it for daily life. Wrestle with sin; recognize the Holy Spirit’s power to overcome ingratitude in us and make us thankful people—thankful to God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit for new life in Jesus that reconciles us to God and to one another. First John 1:9 is that wonderful promise: “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”
Dad, I’m sorry that I was such a complaining, ungrateful child. Thank you for loving me, anyway. Please forgive me. I love you!
Humbly yours,
Bill
Mack Ames Books and Maine Moose Patrol 
As a follow up, I sent this to my father to read, but he never got it. However, in a phone conversation not too long ago, I shared the essence of the story with him. He didn’t remember the wheelbarrow, much less making it, but appreciated my sentiments nonetheless. I thanked him again for his patience in childrearing, his faithfulness in prayers for me, and his enduring love for Jesus Christ.
He is old and frail, and I treat every conversation with Dad as if it will be my final with him this side of heaven. He is far from perfect, but because of the passive and active obedience of Jesus Christ, his Savior (and mine), God the Father sees him as perfect, as the Holy Spirit has applied the righteousness of Christ to Dad’s life in salvation. There is no hope without that work of God in us. I’m so thankful for the Dad God gave me in this life, but even more thankful that through Jesus I have an eternal Father to run to and call, Abba.
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