There’s a Hole in My Heart is a tribute and recollection of a special memory about my dad on the day of his funeral.
We are burying my dad today. He has gone to be with Jesus–I’m sure of it. There’s a hole in my heart for many reasons. The following story is just one example of why it will take a long time to heal.
I was 14 years old and helping Dad on our Indiana farm during harvest season.
When we finished one field, it was time to move all the equipment to another. Evidently we were short of help because Dad looked at me and said, “I need you to drive the old green truck to the field behind Hanna’s.”
When I protested, he calmly said, “You can do it. I know you can.”
Ever since I was 7 or 8 years, I had been driving a small tractor, pulling a wagon that carried rocks we picked up in the field. I remember standing on the pedals to depress them. Nevertheless, I was trembling inside.
This was different. It was a BIG truck with a stick shift on the floor. Not a little short stick. It was long–close to a yard long the way I remember it, with arthritis of the gearshift befitting the age of the truck.
Scared to death, I climbed in to the driver’s seat and drove down the road, but I’m not sure how. When it came time to turn down a narrow lane to the field, I didn’t quite make the turn. A telephone pole took the brunt of my misjudgment and snapped.
I continued driving despite apprehension concerning what would happen about that pole. Would the police come and arrest me or my dad? Would I be fined my entire life savings of 10$? Would they throw me in jail forever?
Later that evening, I overheard my dad talking on the phone. “The utility pole is broken out here on County Road 500. We need somebody to come fix it.” That’s all he said. They came the next day and replaced it. End of story. Except for this observation….
My dad pushed me to do things outside of my comfort zone. When they didn’t always work out, his standard line was, “How else you gonna learn?” I loved him for that.