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This article is from Today's
Native Father, issue #130,November/December, 2003. Related articles from this issue: |
The Old Man from Darby by Tom Anderson |
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This story is entirely true and serves as a graphic reminder to anyone nursing a grudge. A person doing this is saying in effect, “I’ll go to hell before I forgive the one who has wronged me.” In my younger days, we had an egg production chicken farm. Our eggs went mostly to an egg processing plant which prepared them for retail grocery sales. From time to time, local folk would also come to the farm to buy a dozen or two. A few miles from our farm was a small community called Darby.* It was at that time 100% Roman Catholic, purposely kept that way by the residents, who made it clear to anyone who was not of that faith that they were not welcome. Being intensely exclusive, the surnames of the people living there were unique to the community. Thus, when one would give his name, it would, by the law of averages, identify him as being from Darby. One day a stranger showed up whose name I have forgotten years ago. He was an older man, probably between 75 and 85 years of age. He wanted some eggs. In the course of preparing his order, I asked his name. When he stated his name, I asked, “Are you from Darby?” “Yes,” he replied, “I am.” “Are you related to Michael of the same surname, by any chance?” “He’s my brother.” “Well! I’ve been wondering how he has been doing since his stroke,” I said, adding, “Is he doing better?” “My brother had a stroke??” “Had a stroke! Why, he had a devastating stroke three months ago, lying at death’s door. And you, his brother living in the same community, don’t know he’s had a stroke!” “Ach! He and I had a falling out when I was seventeen, and we haven’t spoken to each other since.” I was temporarily stunned by this bit, but recovered. “Sir, are you Roman Catholic?” “Yes.” “Do you pray the Rosary?” “Yep, three times a day, seven days a week. Been doing it all my life. Never missed a day,” he bragged, expanding his chest a little. “Please, Sir, how many ‘Our Fathers’ are there in the Rosary?” “Six.” “So you’ve prayed ‘Our Father’ eighteen times every day ever since you were about seven?” “Yeh!” he grinned. “Let’s see, 18 times 7 is 126 prayers a week, times 50 weeks (for easy figuring) is 6300 prayers a year times 70 years equals 441,000 times you’ve prayed it. Is that so?” “Yeh! What of it? Why do you ask?” Looking him straight in the eye, I explained, “441,000 times you have asked God to forgive you in the same way you forgive your brother. Jesus went on to say that is EXACTLY what God will do. ‘For if you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses’ (Matthew 6:14-15).” Keeping my eye intently on him, I added, “On the authority of the Word of God, I tell you unless you make an honest effort to be reconciled to your brother, when you die you will drop immediately into the burning pits of hell.” On hearing this, he turned ghastly pale and reeled, grabbing the stationary tubs for stability. He broke into an intense sweat and trembled from head to foot, then beat a hasty retreat. I never saw him again. Only if he repented of the rancor he had for his brother could he have entered into heaven, for he is no longer a resident of this earth. I fervently hope we meet again over there to embrace in thankfulness for having met that day in my chicken house. *Names in this story have been changed. This article is not intended to reflect negatively on the Roman Catholic faith, recognizing that most faiths have some adherents whose lives do not agree with their prayers. Mr. Anderson invites feedback to his article, which may be sent to 505 Rick Kelley Lane, Seneca, SC 29678, or tom_ella@surfbest.net. |
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