Devotional UNCLE SEIKO'S LIGHTER

You may remember Yoshi's husband Seiko as my Dad's cousin who went swimming in the Uken river with him when they were 5th graders. Grampa had sent the family from Canada to Okinawa during the Depression. He asked the relatives on the island to keep them while he worked alone in Canada; he would send notice when he became financially able to care for them. (They were very wealthy and able to do this quite easily.). He wrote letters regularly and sent support.

After 2 years, Grampa called for the family, so Daddy returned and had the rest of his education in Canada, but that's why when he got saved he had such a burden for his relatives in Okinawa: he had lived with and loved them. It was a strong conviction that somebody had to tell them about God’s love! If he didn't do it, who would? And the clearest image of "them" was this "Seiko Oshiro" (no relation of the Seiko watch), the husband of Yoshi.

There is so much to tell about Seiko Ojisan (Uncle). The woman Uncle Seiko married, ended up being summoned by the demons to become a priestess in the island’s ancestor worship system (the spirits actually chose and called those they wanted to be priests, it seems). They terrorized her until she met the God-Man Jesus, and our co-worker Edna Princell encouraged her to cling to Him and command the spirits in His Name to leave her alone. From that day, she was free of them. So Yoshi was gloriously saved—and everyone in the village knew about it. It was unshakable testimony of the power of the Blood!

The First Uken Church

Uncle Seiko saw this. He was one of the unbelievers who helped build the first Uken church. He let his wife come and bring his children.

But salvation has to be a personal thing: it has to be you, not just your wife and children. Uncle Seiko knew this. He’d heard it so many times. We had prayer meetings in the old wooden house. 

This is a detour in memory, but a fellow MK came to a few of these meetings and would catch some insects on the house eaves. He’d press their tummies to get them to buzz, and we’d mischievously keep ourselves occupied that way during some of the adults’ long talks. I remember too when I played the portable organ and the wind kept blowing the hymn page shut, how Uncle Seiko noticed, walked over quietly, and put his lighter against the page to hold it open.

I was still in high school then and determined to pray for Uncle Seiko’s salvation from that day on. He was sitting in church one day when we began singing about heaven. The lyrics talked about looking around and seeing all the faces…and when it hit me Uncle Seiko’s wouldn’t be there, I couldn’t sing anymore but cried the rest of the song.

Why wouldn’t he get saved? It seemed to be one thing after another. Building a house. Taking care of a health problem. A big purchase in the making. An important meeting coming up.

“Uncle, when are you going to believe?”

“Oh, sometime…”

My younger sister took care of Uncle Seiko’s oldest daughter’s child in the U.S. a few years ago. His younger daughter is a hairdresser, and we go to her shop whenever we visit the island. His son however, one day got him in hot water. When under the influence of alcohol. He gambled away family property that had been in the Oshiro name for generations, bringing shame to Seiko Oshiro before the rest of the clan.

However, God’s wisdom is astounding. Being disdained by relatives was, it seemed, what Uncle Seiko needed to shake him up and convince him of God’s unconditional love. He was finally saved.

I found the next time we were in church singing about Heaven, I could sing and cry for a very different reason.UNCLE SEIKO WOULD BE THERE!

And as I mentioned before, Uncle Seiko came faithfully to church every chance he could get after that, even when most of his hearing failed and you had to sit next to him and shout in his ear for him to hear you. He came, he said, to support the preacher and well, just because it seemed the right thing to do.

Uncle Seiko doesn’t need his old lighter anymore. We don’t have meetings in his backyard anymore, and besides, we haven’t used that portable organ in quite a while either.

Devotional CAN'T REALLY TRUST SISTERS

I saw, on YouTube, two sisters having a fight, in which the older sister hit the younger sister and accidentally kills her. Of course, when the littler one does not respond to any effort at being revived, the older one panics—she had not meant to hurt her—not really.

They’d just gotten into an argument because the younger one had taken a chocolate kiss without asking permission. The older sister tries to get the corpse to open its mouth, saying she’d give it all her kisses if she’d wake up. 

 

I remember playing Ninja with my sister when I was a little girl, swinging around my plastic brush-comb “dagger”. I accidentally hit my sister on the temple which she covered instantly with her hands. I remember how my heart flew into my mouth at the thought I had hit her eyes and blinded her; but whew; she was all right.

Sometimes, we older sisters do really stupid things but we do love you, really. There’s only One who really does love you and never, ever does anything stupid either. Trust Him with your life, okay?

ジャーナル ブラックダックはいや

 カラスたちが、「ダック」（あひる）と呼ばれることを、面白くないと思っている。一羽のカラスが自分のことを「飛べるブラック・カープ（黒い鯉）」と言い、コイの餌をよこどりしていた。そのため、その池のいきものたちはカラスのことを、「黒いあひる」と、呼ぶようになった。

あだ名はお前のせいだぞと、他のカラスに責められているカラス君。いいことを思いついて、餌をてにいれたはずなのにね。不満を感じる時、自分勝手に動くとき、よくあることだよね。

だって、あの震災で岩槻に来たのが２０１１年。あの時は、余震のため逃げる準備として片腕をバッグのストラップに通して寝たのを、覚えている。あれから１３年待って、色々あったけれど、不思議な守り導きがあった。生活保護からは脱出し、子供は家庭を持ったり社会人になったりしている。

あの並木の家も、もう無くなっているし、８月２９日からは沖縄に引っ越すことになっている。これから、何があるのかな。やっぱり、自分のちえ・ちからでジタバタするのではなく、主に信頼する方が絶対いいのね。

ブラック・ダックはいや。 

Devotional LIGHT IS LIGHT

 I remember hearing someone once say she knew Christians were supposed to be light, but she knew her light was sometimes too dim! But the dimmest light, in utter darkness, looks blinding. And to wandering folk, who can't see the way ahead, that may be the very thing they need. Also, too many Christians want to be spotlights on stage or useful guiding lights on airport runways or at least decorative lights. Few want to be rusty dusty dim-and-dingy old lanterns hanging from tree branches. 

If you look closely, tho',  a myriad of insect friends seem glad someone left the light on for them.

Devotional NOT JUST A CHRISTIAN

 “Children don’t really understand what they’re doing.”

  When I was 7, at a missionary childrens' Bible Club, after listening to the stories about needing to be not just a Christian but a strong soldier for God, I knew that’s what I wanted to do. I didn’t know the big adult words like dedication, consecration, sanctification; but everything necessary, God Himself made sure were present in my heart then. In my child’s mind, I gave myself to God, and He could have my life, not just as a Christian, but as whatever soldier He wanted me to be the rest of my life.

  Maybe much of what was being taught was beyond the reach of my cognitive comprehension. But I knew enough to know I was not staying behind after the meeting just to make Mrs. Styles (the missionary mother heading the children’s meetings) feel good. And I was too shy to pray out loud. I let a few others do it—who were　from Christian homes who’d done family devotions for generations and were used to praying in front of others. But I knew in my heart what I meant. I told God simply I wanted to be, not just a Christian, but a soldier for Him. Please help me do so.

  When our family went Stateside for furlough the following year, I remember my first reaction in finding out my sisters and I would be attending a public school. “You mean the other students won’t all be Christians, like at Okinawa Christian School (the one we’d been attending on the field, for missionary kids)?” I was elated. “You mean, we’ll get to witness—finally? I can’t do that at OCS when everyone else claims to be saved too!”

  And during recess, God gave me the wonderful experience of leading a friend to salvation in Jesus Christ. To this day, I don’t know how we talked. The only thing I remember before that was that Bonnie was a friend distressed about her parents getting a divorce—but we bowed our heads and prayed out there on that playground—and she got saved that day.

  The next Sunday, my heart was so full of joy, I remember I put in my first dollar bill in the offering plate. After worship service, an elderly woman I’d never met before came to me and shook my hand, saying, “God bless you honey.” When she went away, I looked down at my hand. In it she had squeezed a gift of paper currency, to me my first little note of love from a Heavenly Father.

  Children may not be able to understand complicated things. But many have a secret, simple link with God adults do not know.

Word Study ZOMBIE PRINCESS

  I looked up some of the names for the wife given to man…names other than “Eve”, which just about everybody knows:

l Ishsha – means taken out of man, the exact same thing, no more, no less; I think I like that. Ishsha expresses herself in details and ways the brittle male, in general comparison, does not. Ishsha comes from a root meaning “soft”. Like the bone marrow; growth starts here.

l Beulah – this means “married”; thus completed in the husband, protected and provided for—yet also complements as nothing else can. Like oxygen, unnoticed maybe, but a moment-by-moment absolute necessity.

l Hepzibah - designed to yield “delight” if the weaker vessel is well-tended. Altho’ the passing of time dictates decay, with his wife at his side, the husband should feel richer, not just older. Hm. Like wine that actually values with age.

  The unmarried woman should not exempt herself from any of the above and needs to be doing all she can to be the special treasure God intended woman to be. When God created the male, He saw how it was necessary to have a soft, sensitive, joyful human to balance him. At the same time, if she sought satisfaction in anything but the Lord Himself, she would be sorely disappointed. It is only when she delights herself in Him and asks God to keep Him the desire of her heart that she will find fulfilment anywhere.

  One early morning, after writing through the night, I happened to look in the mirror across the room and scared myself. I saw one of the “Living Dead” with sunken temples, hollow cheeks, black craters behind spectacles, and frizzy gray hay-like things wildly flying about the head. Oh; that was me. Uelch!

It’s not fair, I told my husband. Men look more distinguished, dependable, when they age, but women just look haggardly. I told him I had a little squabble with God Who’d promised He wouldn’t let me grow into an old witch but a charming granny. The creature I’d seen in the mirror was nowhere near charming!

Some Ishshas, Beulahs, and Hepzibahs (those of us He calls Sweethearts!), despite outward appearances, are also called King’s Daughters, all glorious within. Because unlike the whimsical tale of the warty toad prince, their identity is declared by a real, mighty, loving God.

聖書から ３つまらない

  「ちょっと待った！キツネうどん食べるまえ、写真とるんじゃなかった？」携帯ストラップのゴーヤボーイに止められた。そうだった。友達のためにブログを書くんじゃなかった？でも、猫舌の自分が、こんなふざけたことで苦労してるけど、他の人はこんなことないよネ？

とにかく、書いてみよう。自分はキツネうどんが好きだけど、熱くて熱くて・・・楽しんで食べられるように具体的作戦を立ててみた。このブログで、それを分かち合っていい？こんなバカなことを、読んだことはないかもしれないけれど。

一番重要なのは、熱～いキツネ。味はおいしいけれど、それが唇の横を触ったら痛い。だから、口を大きく開けて、キツネの角からかみちぎり、食べていくことにした。熱いおつゆの中からうどんを少しとりだし、そのキツネの上に乗せて少し冷ました。

それをフーフーしながら食べていって、揚げは角から食べていくと美味しく完食できる。つまらないって？そうかもしれない。

でも、詩篇103:14によると、神様は心にとめてくれるんでしょう、つまらない者を？あ、そうか、そこでは「ちりにすぎない」と、なっていた。

Devotional A SCARY SPILL

"How in the world did you do it?" I was asked.  "Even professional stuntmen get hurt trying things like that."
  I really couldn't remember.
  Several days ago, I'd fallen down the stairs--all the way to the bottom--head first and backwards; yet I found myself standing up at the end of the fall badly shaken but only a bit bruised. God had been with me every inch of the way:  flipping me around to face the ceiling when I fell so I wouldn't hurt my arms trying to stop myself; making sure I didn't crash into the wall at the bend at the bottom; causing me to land at the right angle so that my head landed on a box placed near the stairs, preventing my neck from snapping back after the bottom step.  In two days, most of the bruises disappeared completely.  I suppose this could be reported as "lucky".

  13 steps in the Saito apartment.  In the U.S., that would be considered an unlucky number; in Japan, the unlucky numbers are 4 and 9, since they have the same pronunciations for "death" and "suffering".  A little later that morning, I read about 7 steps, 7 steps, 8 steps, 8 steps, 8 steps in 5 temple staircases in Ezekiel's vision of a future temple (Ezek. 40:22, 26, 31, 34, 37). 

Actually, for Kinya and me, that portion of scripture was boring; it just happened to be where we were reading that day...exactly where God wanted me to read.  It was as if He smiled:  "If I could see the number of steps on stairs in a temple thousands of years in the future, surely I can see you in a stairwell today...and take care of you in it."

Devotional THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES

  Some little people walk into a room and see tic-tac-toe markings on the ground, three circles all in a row, but there’s nobody else in the room. Someone says, “There’s no scientific proof that anyone else was here. Maybe it was just that way from the beginning.” You’re kidding, right?

  Worse yet, when Someone comes into the room and says, “I made those marks.” The logical response would be: “Oh! So this sheet of paper is yours! Here!”

  But no; by that time, others had gone in there and thought they could do better; they’d bent lines, got things out of proportion; and the majority took shortcuts to draw circles so ended up with funny shapes. They would have to admit to making mistakes they couldn’t undo, and apologize. So they smile, look back at him, and say, “Everyone smart knows this was here from the beginning. You say you made it, but you’re just trying to cause trouble.”

  The One Who came back in the room to get the paper saw what had happened, and altho’ at first He opens His mouth to say something, He stops. He pats the speaker on the head and says, “I’m leaving.”

  Then He notices a little person on the side, scratching his head, so on the way out, asks him what the problem is, and learns there were a few who saw those marks and felt they could not have gotten there by themselves, that someone must’ve made them. “It really was you, wasn’t it?” He nods in reply and whispers He’ll send communication later.

  “And don’t worry; I’ll come back again someday and clean up…no, I’ll make a brand new drawing on a clean sheet—you watch!” With another pat on the head, He is gone.

  The little man runs back to his group. Apparently, the other little man and his generation die off and so does the man that talked to the One Who made the marks. The younger generations that follow don’t really know what went on. All they know is that the smart scientific thing to believe is that the marks have always been there, and anyone who claims otherwise is a troublemaker. But there is a smidgeon of people who say there really was a Person who made those marks, and He’ll be coming back someday, to make a completely new drawing.

  Of course, most people realize that doesn’t make any sense.

  If those marks were there by themselves from the very beginning, and there is no person, he can’t come back some day, can he? Utter nonsense. Almost as foolish as the emperor without his new clothes. Now why did that come up?

END

Devotional CHURCHES & PRAYERS

  It was different by the time I was born, but back in the 1930-40’s, people used to hide family members if they had leprosy so nobody would know. Mrs. Kawabata’s husband sent her to a leper colony and abandoned her. But there, she found the Lord, was cured, then returned to her home in the village of Uken, where her husband came and apologized. She forgave and took him back, but realized she needed someone to teach her about God and the Bible. Without even another Christian in the village, she prayed for a church.

The Adan Plant found on the Beaches of Okinawa

  Imagine my Dad’s surprise when he began his work in Uken, where he thought there was no Gospel witness, when one person, Mrs. Kawabata, came to him, saying he was an answer to prayer! And because of the handful of believers’ strong testimonies to their families, unsaved villagers banded together to put up a Quonset hut the U.S. Military was going to discard, making it the believers’ very own meeting place—the church Mrs. Kawabata prayed for! The Japanese have a fish cake in this shape called “Kamaboko”, so the village children often called it the Kamaboko Church.

  I remember Mrs. Kawabata as a very simple, quiet person, who was always smiling and saying she tried to start off each day thinking about how wonderful it was that God loved her. God must’ve loved to answer her prayers, I’ve often thought. Of course, the first prayer He answered was her prayer for salvation. Then He gave her physical healing. I don’t know if she prayed for her husband to come back, but they were fully reconciled. I hear she later prayed she could live to be 100. Mrs. Kawabata died at 100. Not 99, not 101, but exactly 100.

My sister and mother in front of the Uken Church

  Mrs. Kawabata’s grandson got saved, went to Bible School, came back and pastored another church in Uken. I wonder if Mrs. Kawabata prayed for another church in the village too, or if God was just showing us He could do more than we thought was possible? Because when there wasn’t one other person who was a Christian in the village, and she prayed for that first church, even that prayer seemed pretty gotta-be-kidding!

  Let’s keep making “gotta-be-kidding” prayers before our God.

New Testament TWO SONS

 ²⁸ “What do you think? A man had two sons. And he went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work in the vineyard today.’ ²⁹ And he answered, ‘I will not,’ but afterward he changed his mind and went. ³⁰ And he went to the other son and said the same. And he answered, ‘I go, sir,’ but did not go. ³¹ Which of the two did the will of his father?” They said, “The first.”  (Matthew 21:28-31, English Standard Version)

 

 I saw in my mind’s eye two farmer’s sons sitting in the bedroom, maybe chomping on caramel popcorn, drinking coke, chewing hot jerky sticks, eating pizza, while watching short videos (reruns?). The father walked into the room and said to one of them,

 “Chad, can you work in the fields for me today? I’ll make it worth your while. I’d do it, but I have to run make a trip to the next town. $500 just to drive the tractor down the rows to get the soil ready for planting? What do you say?”

 Chad looked at the bowls in front of him, the T.V. screen, mussed up his hair. and replied, “Nah, not today. I think…you know, my bad back. Sorry, Dad.”

 There was an awkward silence, but Chad hadn’t even looked at his father when speaking to him.

 Chet, who had seen the whole thing, spoke up. “Dad, I can do it.”

 “But Chet—I just taught you how to drive the thing after coming back from boot camp. Are you sure you can operate it for 4 hours? That’s how long it’ll take to get to Burnsville and back, and I was thinking of having the field worked while I was gone. 4 hours on the tractor. Chad could do it. But you, Chet…you just learned.”

 “I could do it Dad, and I really want to help. And since it’s my first try, you can pay me just $50 if you want—I might not do it right, get the rows crooked.”

 “What’re you talking about, Chet? Of course you’ll get $500 if you do it for me.” There was unmistakable pleasure shining from his eyes as he handed him the keys to the tractor. “Thank you, Chet. Now you be careful.

 Every father ought to have a son like you.” He looked over at the other figure reclining on the sofa; shook his head slightly, and left.

　When the screen door closed, Chad let out a yawn. “You serious? That CAT’s (caterpillar) a doozy to operate! 4 hours?! You’ll be sorry!”

 For $500, maybe. But what about $1000?

 “What’re you talking about?”

 “If you’ll do it, Chad—I know you don’t have a back problem—I’ll pay you $1000. Don’t tell Dad, and he’ll pay me $500, thinking I did it. The field will be mowed, so Dad will be happy. Dad was planning to pay $500, so there’s been no embezzlement, right? All’s well that ends well!

 “But Chet, you’ll be in the hole $500!”

 “Don’t worry about that. Just watch. Anyway, what do you say? Do the tractor for da-da…$1000 big ones, bro?

 “Yeah sure, I guess, especially since it’s something Dad wanted and I feel kinda bad about saying no….” And Chet grinned real big and dropped the keys into his hand, ran to get his imitation leather wallet from his room and wrote out a check a for one thousand dollars, handing it to Chad.

 “Downpayment.”

 

 “Got more coke in the fridge? This has gotten lukewarm…” Chad heard as he stepped outside. He decided, not only to til the rows Dad wanted done but finished quite early so went ahead and planted seedlings. When Chad was finished with the work, he knew he’d done what his father would’ve wanted, not just what he said. But when he got back to the house, Chet was nowhere to be found. He’d finished the bag of popcorn; the jerkeys were mostly gone; pizza was as he’d left it—Chet doesn’t care for pizza—and there were two cans of opened, unfinished Coke on the kitchen table. A “screen saver” was running on the monitor left on long after the videos ended. How long had the room been like this?

 It didn’t matter. After working in the field, Chad felt thirsty enough to guzzle down the unfinished cans of lukewarm coke. He spied a note on the table:

 “Dad: The old tractor needs some parts. I asked a friend of mine who is in the know about accessories for a tractor such as the one we have, and he mentioned the Cultivator attachment, available for $450. It will be my Christmas Gift to the family, okay? Instead of paying me for today’s work in the field, please get one of these. Love, Chet”

 Just as Chad was finishing reading the note, he heard the pickup truck in the driveway. It was Dad, back from Burnsville.

 “Chet back in yet?” Then he saw the note and read it. Dad began beaming…until his gaze fell on Chad. But then he smiled.

 “I never knew a person could sweat and look as worn-out as you do just sitting on a sofa watching videos and snacking. How’s your back?” But he wasn’t really asking. Because as he asked, he was walking towards the living room window, looking out the curtain for Chet.

 Just then, the kitchen door opened, and Chet came in, wiping his brows. “Whew! Took longer than I thought, but it’s just the way you wanted, Dad.”

 “And more,” Chad was thinking. “Those furrows have seeds in them already!”

 Of course, the other two occupants of the room could not hear Chad’s thoughts. Dad was at the kitchen table, leaning over a checkbook.

 “I saw your note, Chet. And there’s no way I can let you pay for the Cultivator. Also, you should know by now that if your father has said he is going to pay you for your work, he is going to pay you for your work—and that’s that! This $500 is what I said I would pay you for working those rows…so, thank you,” he said, handing Chet a check for five hundred dollars.

 And from this note of yours, I have a feeling if I don’t purchase that cultivator attachment you’ll just go ahead and do so. So, this check for $500, will you buy us one from your friend?”

 “Not in the hole anymore…” Chet said softly, winking at Chad. Chad froze. What if Dad heard?

 “Did you say something Chet?”

 “Nothing important, Dad.”

 As Chet, both checks in hand, drove away, Dad said to Chad, tho’ not looking him in the face, “You better change your shirt, Son. Axle grease doesn’t wash off easily. And I wonder if I should’ve written the second check for $1000; holes are deeper nowadays.”

 ²⁸ “What do you think? A man had two sons. And he went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work in the vineyard today.’ ²⁹ And he answered, ‘I will not,’ but afterward he changed his mind and went. ³⁰ And he went to the other son and said the same. And he answered, ‘I go, sir,’ but did not go. ³¹ Which of the two did the will of his father?” They said, “The first.”  (Matthew 21:28-31, English Standard Version)

 

 I saw in my mind’s eye two farmer’s sons sitting in the bedroom, maybe chomping on caramel popcorn, drinking coke, chewing hot jerky sticks, eating pizza, while watching short videos (reruns?). The father walked into the room and said to one of them,

 “Chad, can you work in the fields for me today? I’ll make it worth your while. I’d do it, but I have to run make a trip to the next town. $500 just to drive the tractor down the rows to get the soil ready for planting? What do you say?”

 Chad looked at the bowls in front of him, the T.V. screen, mussed up his hair. and replied, “Nah, not today. I think…you know, my bad back. Sorry, Dad.”

 There was an awkward silence, but Chad hadn’t even looked at his father when speaking to him.

 Chet, who had seen the whole thing, spoke up. “Dad, I can do it.”

 “But Chet—I just taught you how to drive the thing after coming back from boot camp. Are you sure you can operate it for 4 hours? That’s how long it’ll take to get to Burnsville and back, and I was thinking of having the field worked while I was gone. 4 hours on the tractor. Chad could do it. But you, Chet…you just learned.”

 “I could do it Dad, and I really want to help. And since it’s my first try, you can pay me just $50 if you want—I might not do it right, get the rows crooked.”

 “What’re you talking about, Chet? Of course you’ll get $500 if you do it for me.” There was unmistakable pleasure shining from his eyes as he handed him the keys to the tractor. “Thank you, Chet. Now you be careful.

 Every father ought to have a son like you.” He looked over at the other figure reclining on the sofa; shook his head slightly, and left.

　When the screen door closed, Chad let out a yawn. “You serious? That CAT’s (caterpillar) a doozy to operate! 4 hours?! You’ll be sorry!”

 For $500, maybe. But what about $1000?

 “What’re you talking about?”

 “If you’ll do it, Chad—I know you don’t have a back problem—I’ll pay you $1000. Don’t tell Dad, and he’ll pay me $500, thinking I did it. The field will be mowed, so Dad will be happy. Dad was planning to pay $500, so there’s been no embezzlement, right? All’s well that ends well!

 “But Chet, you’ll be in the hole $500!”

 “Don’t worry about that. Just watch. Anyway, what do you say? Do the tractor for da-da…$1000 big ones, bro?

 “Yeah sure, I guess, especially since it’s something Dad wanted and I feel kinda bad about saying no….” And Chet grinned real big and dropped the keys into his hand, ran to get his imitation leather wallet from his room and wrote out a check a for one thousand dollars, handing it to Chad.

 “Downpayment.”

 

 “Got more coke in the fridge? This has gotten lukewarm…” Chad heard as he stepped outside. He decided, not only to til the rows Dad wanted done but finished quite early so went ahead and planted seedlings. When Chad was finished with the work, he knew he’d done what his father would’ve wanted, not just what he said. But when he got back to the house, Chet was nowhere to be found. He’d finished the bag of popcorn; the jerkeys were mostly gone; pizza was as he’d left it—Chet doesn’t care for pizza—and there were two cans of opened, unfinished Coke on the kitchen table. A “screen saver” was running on the monitor left on long after the videos ended. How long had the room been like this?

 It didn’t matter. After working in the field, Chad felt thirsty enough to guzzle down the unfinished cans of lukewarm coke. He spied a note on the table:

 “Dad: The old tractor needs some parts. I asked a friend of mine who is in the know about accessories for a tractor such as the one we have, and he mentioned the Cultivator attachment, available for $450. It will be my Christmas Gift to the family, okay? Instead of paying me for today’s work in the field, please get one of these. Love, Chet”

 Just as Chad was finishing reading the note, he heard the pickup truck in the driveway. It was Dad, back from Burnsville.

 “Chet back in yet?” Then he saw the note and read it. Dad began beaming…until his gaze fell on Chad. But then he smiled.

 “I never knew a person could sweat and look as worn-out as you do just sitting on a sofa watching videos and snacking. How’s your back?” But he wasn’t really asking. Because as he asked, he was walking towards the living room window, looking out the curtain for Chet.

 Just then, the kitchen door opened, and Chet came in, wiping his brows. “Whew! Took longer than I thought, but it’s just the way you wanted, Dad.”

 “And more,” Chad was thinking. “Those furrows have seeds in them already!”

 Of course, the other two occupants of the room could not hear Chad’s thoughts. Dad was at the kitchen table, leaning over a checkbook.

 “I saw your note, Chet. And there’s no way I can let you pay for the Cultivator. Also, you should know by now that if your father has said he is going to pay you for your work, he is going to pay you for your work—and that’s that! This $500 is what I said I would pay you for working those rows…so, thank you,” he said, handing Chet a check for five hundred dollars.

 And from this note of yours, I have a feeling if I don’t purchase that cultivator attachment you’ll just go ahead and do so. So, this check for $500, will you buy us one from your friend?”

 “Not in the hole anymore…” Chet said softly, winking at Chad. Chad froze. What if Dad heard?

 “Did you say something Chet?”

 “Nothing important, Dad.”

 As Chet, both checks in hand, drove away, Dad said to Chad, tho’ not looking him in the face, “You better change your shirt, Son. Axle grease doesn’t wash off easily. And I wonder if I should’ve written the second check for $1000; holes are deeper nowadays.”

“Dad, you knew?!”