I’m not sure exactly how to write this post. It’s going to be more of a stream of consciousness, I think, but I hope you appreciate the story I’m about to tell.

The Accident

My reflection process began about three weeks ago. Just before the Fourth of July, my dad was fishing on the Missouri River up by Fort Calhoun with my uncle on his pontoon boat. He was casting his line, when it got stuck close to shore. Instead of cutting the line and putting another hook on, my 73-year old dad, who never learned to swim, decided to get out of the boat and walk up the shore to free the line. Evidently, they were close enough to a shallow part of the river for him to do that. As he was walking along the shore, his foot slipped on a rock, his heel caught between two other rocks, and he fell and broke both bones in his lower leg, one of them in two places. My uncle called 911, and the ambulance came and took him to the hospital, where they fixed him up. He’s recovering nicely now, but he’ll be using a walker or cane for some time yet. That’s the happy ending.

The Relationship

Now I said my dad was with my uncle, but my Uncle Larry is not my dad’s brother. He’s dad’s ex-brother-in-law, my mom’s youngest sibling and only brother. My mom has two other sisters; one died a few years ago, and she still has a close relationship with the other. For reasons I don’t know and that aren’t really relevant to this story, the family dynamics changed over 25 years ago when my mom and dad divorced. The bottom line is that a rift developed between my mom and her little brother such that they haven’t had any meaningful contact, except perhaps at a couple funerals, for over 25 years. (I love my mom deeply, and I understand her pain. She and her husband have been a huge support to me in getting back on my feet after my divorce, and I will never be able to repay her for that. I have no ill-will toward anyone.) Yet my dad, himself the youngest of two and the only boy, has maintained a friendship with him all these years. They’ve gone fishing together quite often; he’s attended my uncle’s Fourth of July fish fry celebration almost every year (he missed it this year, obviously); and he even helped my uncle build a huge garage on his country property.

The accident on the river gave me a lot of time to reflect, especially since my dad was in the Blair hospital, and I had plenty of time to think driving back and forth. Why did my dad and uncle click and maintain that friendship all this years in spite of my mom’s rift with him? Here’s my theory. I have no objective way of knowing if this is true, but it makes sense for me, and as it began to make sense for me while I was driving, I got all teary-eyed. I got the sense that God had given me insight into a situation that might help bring healing to all involved.

The Theory

My dad and uncle are both the youngest and only boys in their respective families. My dad had lots of male cousins growing up that he could hang out with, but most were a bit younger than he was. I’m sure my uncle had plenty of male friends too, and I never knew too many of my mom’s cousins, because most of them had moved away from Nebraska. So when my dad married into my mom’s family, dad got his first “brother.” Now when Larry got married, he married a woman who had brothers only for siblings. Culturally, her family was very much like my dad’s side of the family, and my dad clicked almost immediately with my uncle’s wife’s family. Dad had also maintained a friendship with my uncle’s wife’s brother for several years, so he was no stranger to that family.

What I think is significant here is that my dad had found the brothers he never had as a kid, and my uncle and his wife’s family never blinked twice about considering my dad family. When I realized the power of that bond, that’s when I got all teary-eyed. It brought some healing to me in my own situation. I hope it brings healing to the rest of my family as well.

(I should add that my mom’s sister married, and is still married to, a pastor. He’s a great man, and my dad has no animosity toward him, but since my dad wasn’t the religious type, he never clicked with my mom’s brother-in-law like he clicked with her brother, my Uncle Larry.)

My Own Story

The more I reflected, the more I saw how this might influence my own life and the life of my kids. My son is the oldest of my three and the only boy, and he has two girl cousins who live nearby in Illinois. My siblings all had boys, and they all had them before my now-ex and I started having kids. Add to that one of them lived in Arkansas and the other two in Nebraska, and Alec rarely had any interaction with them. This past Father’s Day was an absolute blast for all of us. My dad and I and my three kids went to Rushmore and to my dad’s sister’s cabin in Wyoming. All of my kids had a blast, but my son really impressed me on so many levels. We connected in a way we hadn’t in a quite a while. I’m proud of my kids, I’m proud of my parents, and I’m proud of their families too. I can only wonder if this insight is part of the reason why God called me back to Nebraska three years ago. There’s still work to do in my family.

And now, a word from Psalms 126–127 to wrap this up:

^126:1 When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,

we were like those who dreamed.

² Our mouths were filled with laughter,

our tongues with songs of joy.

Then it was said among the nations,

“The Lord has done great things for them.”

³ The Lord has done great things for us,

and we are filled with joy.

⁴ Restore our fortunes, Lord,

like streams in the Negev.

⁵ Those who sow with tears

will reap with songs of joy.

⁶ Those who go out weeping,

carrying seed to sow,

will return with songs of joy,

carrying sheaves with them.

^127:1 Unless the Lord builds the house,

the builders labor in vain.

Unless the Lord watches over the city,

the guards stand watch in vain.

² In vain you rise early

and stay up late,

toiling for food to eat—

for he grants sleep to those he loves.

³ Children are a heritage from the Lord,

offspring a reward from him.

⁴ Like arrows in the hands of a warrior

are children born in one’s youth.

⁵ Blessed is the man

whose quiver is full of them.

They will not be put to shame

when they contend with their opponents in court.

Peace to all,

Scott Stocking