The Brick Layer

Its the type of story that looks like a patchwork quilt in my mind; Each square is another’s perspective, and all of them are stitched together by strands of conversations I have picked up. No one ever sat me down and told me what happened. It is the story of my Dad’s marriage. I guess the proper term would be marriages, but I am not sure if I want to call it that either. Simply because that is not the focus of the story; it is about how my family came to be. Being the youngest in my family I often feel like the story was written without me. The characters were set, and the plot outlined long before I became a member of it. As if the story were a building, and all of the bricks were laid prior to me being there. The story I am about to tell you is one of my favorites because it testifies to me that I am not merely an on looker but a bricklayer in my family history.
My Dad was married to three different women before he married my mom. Glenna was his first wife. She died of breast cancer. Together Dad and Glenna had six children: Sarah, Carl, Swen, Jenny, Andrew, and Bryce. Right after Glenna’s death my Dad married another women. Whom I have never meet and know absolutely nothing about. Shortly after their divorce my dad married Emily. They had Lee together, and then they got a divorce. After the divorce settled down a little my dad met my mom, and together they had Caleb, and me. My parents are still together, and living in Spanish Fork Utah.
When my Dad was single there were not many rules in the house. One rule that was actually followed was the rule that when you got home from school you had to check in with Dad. It was in the days before cell phones so you actually had to say hollow to Dad’s face before you ran off to play. My Dad is a farmer. There are three places you can find Dad: in his tractor shoveling manure, in his tractor picking up hay, or in his tractor just to be in his tractor. Farm tractors tires are a least five feet tall, and the buckets are designed to carry literally tons. To be on the safe side whenever you were approaching Dad and his tractor you could do one of two things. Toss a rock and hope he sees it, or my personal favorite swing on top of a gate screaming “DAD” looking at the clouds passing by until you hear the tractor engine shot off.
One day while Dad was shoveling manure, before he meet mom, and after he divorced Emily. He was thinking about if he wanted to get married again. His children needed a mother, but was this worth it. The fights, tears, and emotions were getting to be to much.
It was about the time of day that the kids get home from school, and Dad was kind of waiting for them to check in before they went to go and play. Above the blurs, and rumbling of the engine he heard some one call out “Dad!” He looked around, but no one was there. So he kept on scrapping manure, thinking to himself that perhaps it was a buzz in the radio. Then he heard it again. It was so clear he could tell it was a little girl’s voice. This time he turned off the tractor and looked through the window wondering who could have said that.
As he looked around something caught his eye in the clouds. It was an angle’s face with golden blond hair. Before he got a good look at her she had ducked behind the puffs of white and streams of sunlight calling “Dad” out one last time. Something told my Dad as he settled back down in his dusty tractor seat one day that little angle would be his little girl. He was going to find someone wonderful to marry. Together they were going to bring that little angle into this world, and love her with all they had.
This story has changed my out look on life because my Dad is convinced that I am the angle he saw. Even when Mom would point out that he had two beautiful children with blond hair, a little boy, and a little girl, Dad would smile and say something to the effect that he heard a little girl’s voice. It gives me strength to know I am not simply a good bookend to a well written novel entitled “The Prior Family” Like I was apart of this family before I was born. In a more divine settings it makes me aware of the fact that all of us are bricklayers in building an eternal family. None of us are merely on lookers; even when we are not born yet, or have passed on to the other side. We are all held responsible in creating an eternal family. More importantly I guess I want to say that I am accountable for in developing an eternal family, and my contributions are just as vital as anyone else’s.