The old John Deere motor turns—thump, thump, thump—and fires. The bump and chug repeats faster and faster, announcing Uncle Grant’s tractor is ready for the fall trek into the woods to gather the winter’s firewood.
Eddie and I have become Saturday farm hands, tagging along with Uncle Grant and his sons Richard and Greg. Not because we are useful—boys ages seven and 12 can only do so much—but to keep our minds and hands busy.
Dad has been deployed for more than a year now. He calls when he can, and as thrilling as it is to hear his voice, our hearts break when the dial tone signals the call is over. I think: “This war is taking too long.” Uncle Grant understands. He served in World War II. He knows the heartache of being away from his family. He determines to do all he can to ease the sting for me and my brother.
We rise early, dress in jeans, grab our fleece-lined jackets, and dash across the blacktopped Louisiana Highway 488. Uncle Grant’s farmhouse stands on property that has been in the family for generations. The smoke from the fireplace promises a warm welcome. The smells of breakfast greet us as we burst through the back door: homemade biscuits fresh from the oven, thick bacon crisp in the black cast-iron skillet, and eggs laid that morning, fried, slide onto plates. We gobble Aunt Dale’s breakfast, served at the hand-hewn wood table.
Four growing boys leave little evidence of the hard work that went into preparing it. But the content looks on our faces seems payment enough for her labors.
Fall is my favorite season, the season of harvest and thanksgiving. It is a time to remember the benefits of family and to give thanks for God’s faithfulness. David entreats us in Psalm 103, “...forget not all His benefits.” After uniting the twelve tribes of Israel and reigning as their king, David looks back, reminding readers to count their blessings. He urges the reader not to forget all of God’s deeds. David recounts His forgiveness, healing, redemption, and mercy. He proclaims God’s love and grace. He testifies that he wants for nothing—God satisfies the desires of his heart.
After that big breakfast, we climb onto the trailer built by Uncle Grant and his brothers when they were young. It sways left to right along the trail that marks the way to the trees cut in the summer. Summer cutting to autumn gathering, the seasons mark the passing time. I know as days come and go, Dad’s return home comes closer.
I remember those far-off days with thanksgiving. Uncle Grant made us feel necessary, as if the farm work would suffer if we did not help. We believed one undone chore would be the difference between having all that was needed and being without, that harvesting rows of peanuts before the first frost guaranteed a bounty, enough to make an abundance of the peanut brittle I loved, or helping to mend fences made Uncle Grant’s cows happier, making their milk plentiful and sweeter.
Uncle Grant’s love and care made Saturday mornings a time to look forward to instead of dread. His thoughtful care provided a pleasant distraction from the reality of Dad’s absence. We felt needed. Only later did we realize the great need in our lives Uncle Grant filled in that season.
Remembering is not just about the past. Remembering equips us for the future. We can be confident that what God has done in days past, He will do again. He is faithful, and will be faithful, no matter what challenges and hardships befall us. As David reminds us, no matter how great the challenge, God is the One who brings victory, equipping us for the task, renewing us—likening us to eagles who soar.
Dad’s eventual return made our family whole again. Days on the farm came to an end, but my memories of Uncle Grant during that time remain a cherished part of a good childhood. Miles and years away from Louisiana Highway 488, my heart swells in gratitude at each sound of a tractor and sight of a trailer in this new season of harvest.
Remembering fuels genuine heartfelt praise.
Written by Jim Edminson, Editor of Charity & Children