Last Sunday was the annual Spears reunion, which is the family get-together of my Dad’s people. I went with the children because I knew it would please my Dad. I was not looking forward to it, because I knew there would be a lot of people there who knew me as a child, but of whom I would have no memory. It is a little embarrassing to have to admit in conversation after conversation that you don’t remember who someone is, though he is calling you by name.
After the meal, the children and I strolled to the graveyard, the final resting place of Grandpa and Grandma Spears and many of their family. There was a nice shade tree and I laid down under it while the kids climbed the tree and ran among the gravestones.
Prairie was intrigued with the little lamb on top of one little headstone. She petted it. She talked to it. I’m pretty sure she surreptitiously tried to pry it loose and put it in her pocket.
The reunion was the fifth time I have talked to my Dad since the rift between us about 7 years ago. Each time I speak with him, I am convinced that he is a changed man. I pleaded with God to work in my father’s heart and knew it would indeed be a job that only God could do. As far as I can tell, my father’s nature appears to be 100% different from what it was 7 years ago. It is amazing and beautiful to see. It gives me great hope to think of the wonders God can perhaps work in me.
A picture of the Spears men. My Dad is second from the right. There are so few left now, only my Dad and his brother R.J. left of the nine children of Grandpa and Grandma Spears. I think nine. Honestly though, I might be forgetting somebody.
I’m glad I went. It pleased my Dad. My children were the only little people there, and I think the sight of them blessed many of the elders to see them.
It was a beautiful day and the sight of my children running among the saints who have gone before lifted my heart.