In times of old, a man who had spent his life as a store clerk ran
upon hard times and was compelled to leave his chosen field and provide for
himself and his family as a farmer. He
had to work the land with oxen, secured within a shared yoke. One of the oxen had many years of experience
at the plow, and worked hard, even in his advancing years. He did his best to help the master, knowing
that he would be loved and cared for by him.
There was much work to be done, so the master matched the older ox
with a younger, much stronger ox, but one with little experience. The younger
ox enjoyed the attention of the master but did not understand the principal of
cooperation. He seemed willing to do the
work but was not accustomed to sharing a yoke with another ox, in particular,
one that was old, had a different view of things, and who has lost some of his youthful vigor. And the older ox had never before worked with
an ox so inexperienced and aggressive.
As they started to work, each had their own ideas of what was
best. Both were convinced the other was wrong at times. The younger ox, out of
frustration would pull too fast, or jerk sideways, causing pain to their shoulders
and necks. The older ox would at times have to jerk and pull with all his
might, and strain to keep the younger one from doing harm to the plow, the
master and even himself. The elder wished the younger would disappear. The job would be done more easily alone. The younger ox wished the same, but they both
loved the master, and he loved them both.
Each ox, headstrong and convinced of his own truth, was not
inclined to give control over to the other. Moments of cooperation and consideration were
fleeting. Mostly, one tugged against the
other and, in worst cases, even kicked one another. The master had to have
noticed their conflict but, being new to farming himself, assumed it was the
price he had to pay. In their hearts,
the oxen knew they could do better, in service to their master, but their pride
kept them at odds.
The elder faced the same dilemma with the dawn of each day. He was
convinced the younger ox was unwilling to cooperate, but only wanted to do
things his way and only wanted complete control. The elder felt responsible for
protecting the master from the younger ox’s mistaken ways.
The master, in whose service the oxen toil, is my grandson Sean. Obviously,
I am the old ox. Thy young ox is Sean’s father and is used to getting his way
through force or intimidation if need be. We, along with Hannah share a common
yoke to do what is best for Sean.
I am between a rock and a hard place. Realistically, I acknowledge
that I have no real authority or control over others. I am not the parent. I am
not my brother’s keeper. I am instructed to love my neighbor as myself. I must
find a way to protect my loved ones from harm. In my mind, ask why me? What lessons am I to learn, and
even being prepared for? I’m not one who
easily gives up control to a higher power, unless I have no other choice. I
encourage myself and my daughter, we will get through this, it will all be for
the best, there are lessons to be learned, and justice will prevail, if not in
this world, then the next. Please let
there be Karma.
What would Jesus do? What would Gandhi do? What would Martin
Luther King do? What would you do? What
have you done when tethered to someone longer than you felt you could bear?
My sister provides this advice.
Repeat as often as possible “Bless him, heal me.” Until I get something
more concrete, it will have to suffice.
