Dependence-Independence-Interdependence… Dependence

In the mid-1960s Dad and Mom had attended a family-life seminar shortly before our visit with them at Sarasota, Florida. Dad eagerly shared with me the insights he’d gained at the event: “The speaker pointed out the stages boys go through with their dads. At birth the child is totally dependent on its parents. By age 8 or 9 the boy begins to show some independence. That urge becomes stronger with teenage and by 17-18 the son wants to be independent of his dad, who he believes doesn’t know anything.”

Dad went on, “The main thing is this, if the father and son can avoid being totally alienated from each other during this time, within a few years they begin to become interdependent. The father and son will start asking one another for advice or an opinion. I see that happening with me and Lester (my younger brother), now”

It all added up for me then and over the years I saw the pattern repeated with our sons and daughters. However, either the seminar speaker or Dad missed one element in this life scenario: a role reversal midst growing dependence!

Though I didn’t particularly dwell on the fact, over the past two decades I have become aware that Sarah and I increasingly need our children’s help. The reality struck home in a special way this past Sunday morning. With twin screens displaying the music text, the church sanctuary lights were dimmed—a less than desirable prospect for someone with glaucoma. Glaucoma robs the eye’s ability to quickly adjust from bright to low light. The experience is disconcerting at best and sometimes downright fearful.

In this instance I put out my hand, stepping into the dark. David, to my right wrapped his fingers around mine and led me along the aisle. For a moment, I was a little boy again crossing a village street, guided by my Dad. We reached the pew and I came back to the present. David bade me sit, while I felt blest that our youngest son had understood my need without my asking for assistance!

How Shall They Hear?

Katietroyer’s recent post, “Another Nobody Died,” reminded me of my late mother Ida’s encounter in the 1970s with another “invisible” Pinecraft resident.

Dad (J.B.), ever drawn to unfortunate individuals, had learned to know Mr. Jones. The older gentleman, a widower, lived alone in a small house south-side of Bahia Vista Street . With her agreement, Dad offered that Mom would do Mr. Jones’ laundry—washing and ironing--for a small fee           

At first, Mr. J. brought and picked up the laundry at my parents’ Gardenia Street home. However, as summer came on, failing health left him unable to make the several blocks’ roundtrip. Mom or Dad could more easily do the favor by car.

This particular instance, the entrance door stood open. Mr. Jones was lying on the sofa inside. Mom knocked on the screen door. A voice said, “Come in.”

“I felt real uneasy walking in,” Mom said later. “But he apologized and said he didn’t feel well enough to get up. I set the laundry basket on the table and turned to leave. But I couldn’t. Joe Eash had been holding revival meetings at Palm Grove, and he talked about how important it is for Christians to tell others about Jesus. Part of me didn’t want to, but I knew I had to say something to this man.”

Mom turned and said, “Mr. Jones, may I ask, ‘Are you a Christian?’”

“No,”

“Has anyone ever talked to you about it?”

“No.”

“Would you like to become a Christian?”

“Yes, I would,” replied Mr. Jones.

Mom was in a spot she had never been before. Though a devoted follower of Jesus, I doubt that she had ever been quite so forthright with anyone, much less a man and near stranger. Hesitating a moment, Mom said, “Mr. Jones, we’re leaving tomorrow for vacation but we’ll see to it that someone comes to talk with you.”

That evening, Dad contacted one of the Palm Grove Mennonite pastors who agreed to visit Mr. Jones.

My parents were gone for several weeks and shortly after returning, learned that Mr. Jones had been hospitalized while they were away. Mom recalled afterward, “It was on my mind that I needed to go visit him, but I didn’t get in until a few days later. When I stopped at the nurses’ station to ask about Mr. Jones they said, ‘Oh, he passed away just a few hours ago.’”

Momentarily dismayed, Mom later took consolation from the Palm Grove pastor. “He had visited Jones, and though he knew very little about the Bible, the minister felt satisfied that Jones had understood the plan of salvation and accepted Jesus.”  

Closing question: Year to year, how many needy souls are “passed by” in Pinecraft where Amish and Mennonites by the thousands live and visit? The Lord alone knows the answer.