A farmer in the early 1900s, has taken ill and is unable to maintain the family farm. Greg, the farmers son, must rise above his youth and take the reigns of the family homestead. But as winter arrives, all Greg wants is to give his fatherMoreA farmer in the early 1900s, has taken ill and is unable to maintain the family farm. Greg, the farmers son, must rise above his youth and take the reigns of the family homestead. But as winter arrives, all Greg wants is to give his father something only God can provide...more time.
This touching, 3800-word short story (originally published in the poetry/short story compilation: Inspirations) is sure to bless your heart.A little history behind this story: I wrote this story as a senior in high school (Grapeland High School - 1991) in the middle of Joy Phillips’ history class. It was a much shorter version than the version represented here. And even though Mrs. Phillips and I got along great, I was supposed to be working on History–not fiction.
She took up the hand-scratched pages and locked them away in her desk. I was upset and begged her to give me back my story. Of course, she kept them until the end of the day but I was still in a panic that shed keep them, or worse, throw them away. I dont know about any of the other Grapeland alumni that remember Mrs. Phillips, but to me she was a sweetheart of a woman and she certainly knew how to rule the classroom. Thankfully, she gave them back with a stern but lighthearted warning, “Don’t let me catch you working on anything but history.”Anyway, fast-forward to graduation night.
My dad made a nice booklet of my story (folded neatly with staples and a nice, glossy piece of artwork for the cover) and I had a copy hidden under my graduation gown to give Mrs. Phillips. I was standing in front of the auditorium and caught Mrs. Phillips before she went into the assembly. I handed her a copy of A Gift for Father and said, “Here Mrs. Phillips. This is the story you almost threw away.” She laughed, took the booklet from my hand, we hugged, she congratulated me on graduating, and then she retreated into the auditorium.I never entertained the idea that she would read that story during the graduation ceremony, but she did.
She found me afterwards and there were tears in her eyes and a Kleenex in her hand. All she said was, “Thank you- I’m so glad that I didnt throw it away.” She hugged me again, and then other family and friends demanded our attention.Mrs.
Phillips retired a few years after my graduation, and then passed away not long after that. That night at the graduation ceremony was the last time I ever saw her.I hope this story touches your heart as it did for Mrs. Phillips.