Such Love
(Inspired by a story I once read)
The world is full of books that
contain stories, hence those burning lamps,
And here’s another story that
upon ones mind a picture stamps.
It a borrowed one, though true
or fictional I really don’t know,
But one I’ve presented in
poetic form that seeds it might sow.
So here we go:
A very sad and tragic story
has been passed down throughout the years,
It one about an only child and
one that gives reason for tears.
Oh, how his father loved him
so, and how his mother loved him too,
But they were very poor people
and this harsh life had struggled through.
They were worried about their
son and a college education,
So they scrimped and saved for
years, both dreaming of his graduation.
And both were getting on in
years, and thus their health was not the best,
But until they had saved
enough, they just toiled on without a rest.
Well, when they had saved all
the money that was needed for their son,
They sent him off to a
college, thrilled that this they’d finally done.
Thus, tears soon flowed as
they waved goodbye to the son that they held dear,
For they could hardly be sure
when their much loved son would next appear.
And whenever they could do so,
a few more dollars they would send,
Tucked inside an envelope with
a loving note that they had penned.
They knew that the money they
had sent might not pay for all he’d need,
So every day on bended knee
they would seek out their God and plead.
Well, a number of years went
by and the letters sent home decreased,
Which a greater concern and
longing in each parent’s heart increased.
And when yet another year went
by and no news had come their way,
The husband bade his wife
goodbye and set off on their horse and dray.
And for many long days he
travelled, his head shaded from the sun,
And he, lost in pleasant
memories, so hopeful he’d soon see his son.
And travelling over winding
tracks with an ache deep in his heart,
He bemoaned the past number of
years that they’d had to spend apart.
He also thought about the
college where his much-loved son now went,
It one where more wealthy
parents their more privileged children sent.
How he had wanted the very
best for his disadvantaged son,
But as he drew near the
college, he wondered, “Was the right thing done?”
His dear son would have
changed, of course, and quite a young man he would be,
He mixing with those wealthy
ones who viewed poor folk disdainfully.
So would he want his new
friends to know that his mum and dad were poor;
And what might he have told
them? — such thoughts he simply couldn’t ignore.
Soon two large stately college
gates appeared within his dimming view,
And a tired but excited
father, those two stately gates passed through.
And looking somewhat
dishevelled and in clothes that were second-hand,
He halted in the driveway
where anxiously the large grounds were scanned.
Lofty old buildings drew the
gaze of this humble old working man,
He astounded at their grandeur
and how they all for acres ran.
His squinting blue eyes
searched out the grounds with intense concentration,
And soon he was rewarded with
much cause for great jubilation.
For with unbelievable joy he’d
caught sight of his dear son,
And the thin wheels of the old
dray on the shingle driveway soon spun.
His loud voice rang with
excitement as he called out his dear son’s name,
But the face of his startled
son portrayed embarrassment and shame.
Surrounded by all his
classmates, (whose surprise was also quite clear),
His words tore at his father’s
heart and fouled the sultry summer air.
“Shove off, old man. You’re
not my
dad, and I’ve never seen you before,
So just go back where you came
from before somebody calls the law.”
And quickly turning on his
heels, his son then briskly strode away,
Whilst his classmates mocked
and jeered his dad on the old horse and dray.
How tears flowed down the
father’s face as horse and dray were turned around,
And his aging body shook with
sobs as hooves beat upon the ground.
Thus back out through the
large college gates went a broken-hearted man,
Whose reddening, smarting,
tear-filled eyes now no longer sought to scan.
He now lost to his
surroundings and in a fog of crippling pain,
A thousand cruel hammers
hammering deep inside his tortured brain.
Off down the old winding track
that sad father slowly made his way,
The trip home seeming so much
longer for deep pain now ruled the day.
And even the old faithful mare
hauling the old and battered dray,
Seemed to sense her master’s
deep distress as they homeward made their way.
As the father neared his home,
his darling wife waved from the front gate,
She unaware that the son she’d
borne had just sealed her husband’s fate.
But no corresponding wave came
from the husband that she had missed,
For it seemed the horse’s
reins were firmly embedded in his fist.
Unable to say a word, he
stepped down from the old battered dray,
And towards the open house
door, his wife helped him make his slow way.
And anxious about her
husband’s state she then led him to a chair
Where beside the fireplace all
his thoughts he would regularly share.
After giving him a welcome
home hug, she turned to close the door,
When suddenly her husband
groaned and then crumpled up on the floor.
Horrified, she clutched at
him, but not a word could hubby impart,
For this man that she now
cradled had just died of a broken heart.
Yes, what a tragic story, that here, I via poetry impart,
Which brings to my mind Someone else who died of a broken heart.
And yes, He too set out from His home for loved ones that He missed too,
Wishing that they were home with Him and firmly in His care and view.
Yes, He too suffered rejection after travelling from afar,
And marks from that rejection our dear Saviour's blessēd hands now mar.
Oh, how He suffered on that cross, spurned by those that He’d come to
save,
But glory hallelujah, He conquered death and then fled the grave.
And His death was not in vain, for He has offered His grace to all,
Thus pardoning the repentant who respond to His loving call.
And our dear Saviour is still
searching this earth where His loved ones stay,
And hoping that more
will respond and not foolishly turn away.
So, would any folk who mock and jeer keep you from your
Saviour’s arms,
Thus you breaking His heart again and sending more pain through
His palms?
Would you too turn upon your heels if He came and called out your name,
Would you too in front of others display embarrassment and shame?
Or would you, despite those other folk, who might mock and jeer your
Friend,
Embrace Him if He called you and then your deep love for Him defend?
Yes, would you in front of other folk show delight should He appear,
And turn with a warm welcome towards that sweet sound that you would
hear?
Yes, two sad and tragic stories, but the latter one mentioned here
Has a much happier ending, one in which everyone can share.
It’s so full of hope and promise for those who their Saviour don't
spurn,
For Jesus, with many angels, for such Christians will soon return.
By Lance Landall.
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