“I’m done!”
Sandy’s voice echoed through the old pole barn.
Standing in the middle of the enormous structure, she turned a full circle surveying her accomplishment. The mountains of boxes, bags, and debris were gone. Other than bits of cardboard, frayed wads of packing tape, and the occasional candy wrapper, the barn was empty. Thick cobwebs still coated the walls in some places, and vines still grew out of the corners along the wall. They would soon be someone else’s problem.
“You think so?” asked Sam.
“Yes, I do,” she said without turning around. “I even finished with a few days to spare.”
Sam walked toward her from behind, his heavy black boots clicking loudly now that there was nothing inside to absorb the sound. He squatted down when he reached her side, and used his forefinger to doodle in the thin layer of dust and dirt coating the barn floor. “We’re on this earth to be servants to each other, Sandy,” he said, dragging his finger slowly in a broad semi-circle. “What you’re doing, what you’ve done for your father, is stepping into his place and finishing his work. You’re serving him and you’re almost finished.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about, Sam,” she replied. “Wait. Did you say ‘almost?’”
The left corner of his upper lip lifted in a half-smile. “Well, let’s just say it’s almost complete.”
“I went through everything,” she insisted. “Look around! I cleaned up his mess.”
“Indeed you have,” answered Sam. “You cleaned up his mess.”
“Is there something else I missed?” When Sam did not reply, she raised her eyebrows and snapped a finger. “Ah, you mean the tax liens. I am one step ahead of you, my friend. That horrible mess is fixed as well. Steve negotiated the original amount to less than half, and they removed all the penalties. We now have the money to pay it ourselves, and Steve volunteered.”
Sam rubbed his chin and grinned. “That must be a huge relief. But you have still only cleaned up his mess.”
Sandy turned her hands palm up. “I give up.”
“We all make messes of our lives to one degree or another,” he explained. “We hope we can straighten them out or clean up our mess before it’s too late, but sometimes,” he stood up and wiped the dust from his hands, “sometimes time runs out. Like a basketball game, the clock of life ticks off the seconds, the minutes, the hours, and the days. And when the buzzer sounds …”
Sandy frowned. “You are ruining my good mood, Sam.”
“The clock ended before your dad could do all this for himself. That can happen to any of us at any time. Young, old—it doesn’t matter. Our time in this life is limited.”
“Well of course it is,” shot back Sandy. “Who doesn’t know that?”
“Knowing is one thing,” Sam replied. “But who really believes their own time will be short?” He stared at her for a few seconds, just long enough to make her uncomfortable. “No one knows their time of departure.”
“Departure?” Sandy shook her head. “That’s an odd word. When we’re dead, we’re dead. “To ‘depart” implies you are going somewhere.”
“That’s right,” he continued. “Our bodies die but our souls go on. We all have to be prepared. Even under the best of circumstances, there will be work left undone.”
“My dad had no intention of cleaning up the barn,” she continued. “I believed he was busy creating messes for me to clean up. Now I find out he suffered from PTSD and it probably caused most of the problems he suffered after the war.” Sandy began walking slowly back to the front of the barn with Sam at her side. “I blamed him for everything that was wrong in our family, Sam. Everything. But everything wasn’t his fault. Most of it wasn’t. The problem was my own insensitivity and selfishness.”
“I don’t think you were selfish or insensitive,” Sam replied. “You didn’t understand, and your father couldn’t help his family understand. But of course, he probably had no idea what he was doing to himself or to his family. We all make mistakes large and small, Sandy. All of us. The only thing that matters is that when we do, and when we know, we change.”
“I understand that better now,” she admitted. “I so regret what I did. For so many years I treated him like he was nothing but a drunk and a bum.”
“And now what do you believe?”
“He left all this, and it is still a little confusing,” she confessed, “but now I know he left it for me.” A pensive look crossed her face. “Yes, I had a tough summer and a lot of stress, and my reward was having to dig through a huge barn, most of it crammed with countless boxes and bags of decaying leaves my dad had been saving—as a gift for me in his own”—Sandy struggled to find the right word—“his own … way.”
When Sam smiled, Sandy tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “What’s making you smile?”
“You may never think of all this as a reward,” he said, waving his hands in the air to take in the empty barn, “but you performed a wonderful and blessed service for your dad and saved your mother from her burdens—the barn, the tax lien, and the pain she carried about how and what you thought of your father.”
Sandy’s face slowly lit up, as if a sudden realization struck her. “He knew I would figure it out, but he was too ill to fully understand all of what he was putting me through,” she said slowly. “But my mother would never have figured it out, and we could not hire it done because strangers would never have figured it out, either.” She stopped and watched Sam’s smile grow larger. “I was the only one who could have done this.”
“The rewards that are the most important in life, aren’t of this earth.”
At that, Sandy fell silent. She walked along the far wall about halfway down the length of the barn before turning around to face him. “Do you believe there is a God, Sam?”
His gaze locked onto Sandy and drew her closer, step by step. “There is.” When she was a few feet from him, he continued. “When we first met, you asked, ‘Why would God do this to me?’ Do you remember?”
“Yes,” she said with a firm nod of her head. “I still wonder that.”
“God doesn’t do things to people. The better question might be, ‘Why would God allow this to happen?’ Walk with me, Sandy.” Together they slowly made their way toward the front of the barn and from there, began walking around the perimeter, side by side. “God uses all things for His good purpose—if we open our hearts to see it. I think He used this barn and the giant, seemingly insurmountable, mess to do a great work within you.”
“Within me?” she asked.
“You’re not the same woman I met weeks ago. I believe this old warehouse, or pole barn as you call it, became your instrument of change.”
Sandy thought for a few moments before nodding in agreement. “I see that now. I never would have without you.” They continued walking, their footsteps echoing off the rough wooden sides of the barn. “Do you believe there is a heaven, Sam?”
He closed his eyes and smiled as if imagining a beautiful place. “As sure as I’m standing here, there’s a Heaven.”
“Are you here” She turned away so Sam could not see the tears welling up in her eyes. “My husband and my kids think I’m ‘emotionally exhausted’—that you are a figment of my imagination. Tracey says I’m hallucinating.”
“What do you think?”
She hesitated. “I think you are here.” Her words lacked confidence.
“I didn’t come here for them. It doesn’t matter what they think.”
“You came for me?” By this time the tears were running down her cheeks. “You didn’t know me.”
The mouth of the stranger who had become a friend transformed into a wide smile. “All I can tell you is that one day I was running on a beach, and the next day I was here. Time is relative. I am here now, but not only for you.”
Blood rushed to her face. “Then who else are you here for?”
“I am here for him.”
Sandy furrowed her brow as her questioning eyes met his. “You’re here for Steve?”
“I’m performing a service for a friend. I’m here for Duke.”
“Daddy?” Here voice trembled, the word nearly catching in her throat. She hadn’t called her father that since she was twelve years old.
“Your dad performed a service for me that I could not perform for myself,” replied Sam. “He did it with a joyful heart.”
“Wait!” she responded sharply, as if the spell was broken. “I’ve never seen you around town. How did you know him?” Her eyes narrowed. “Something doesn’t add up.”
Sam chuckled softly. “Not everything adds up in human measurements. Time is relative, as is age. In this life, you need reference points to measure both. But there is a place where those reference points are meaningless. The soul has no beginning and no end. There is no need to measure. I know you can’t understand that now. But you will. Your father was a kind and gentle man. He loved his family. He loved you with a love that is immeasurable.”
As she stared into Sam’s eyes, all the important and memorable moments she had spent with her father scrolled through her mind. “What’s happening to me, Sam?” Her heart raced and the blood pounded in her temples. “What did you do?
“I’ve done nothing. You’ve done it all yourself. You are on a beautiful journey. I’m here to help you on your way. You’re loved deeply by many, Sandy,” explained Sam. “Someday you will come to know that you are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses. Don’t be too self-critical. Your students, your friends, your family … you are loved. You make a positive difference in the lives of everyone you touch.”
“And we learn even more,” sighed Sandy, “sometimes the hard way, from our personal mistakes.”
Sam nodded. “We give love and receive love. We must be grateful for the hardships as well as the blessings we encounter along the way. Both pull us closer to complete understanding and love. Our hardships pull us closer to God. So be grateful.”
“Am I failing?”
“No. We enjoy small successes and endure small failures along the way.” Sam paused to let her soak it in. “But in the big picture, it’s all a learning process. Above all, know that you are loved.”
A patch of dirt on the floor off to the side caught her eye. She smiled at the little drawing of a fish he had made with his finger. When she turned to face him, he had disappeared. Sandy rushed to the door and looked outside, but he was nowhere in sight.
She turned back and, with a heavy sigh, took stock of the warehouse and all she had accomplished. Somehow, it now looked less complete. The boxes were gone, but the dirt and cobwebs remained. “Okay, Daddy. This is for you,” she whispered. “It … it was … it is, a privilege to serve you. I’m grateful you entrusted this task to me.” She didn’t fully understand the words that came tumbling out of her mouth, nor was she convinced she was sincere.
Sandy reached for the wide broom leaning against a pillar and went to work. The cobwebs came down in tiny white swirls, spooling around the long broom handle as she reached and wiped as high as she could reach. She swept the dirt and debris into a score of small piles before scooping them, one by one, into an empty box. With a new-found energy, she cleaned as if the barn were her new home.
Two hours later, the floor was clean and most of the cobwebs gone, but Sam’s little fish remained intact. Dirty and tired, she walked to the front of the barn by the door and was about to turn off the lights when a memory of the day her father purchased the warehouse filled her mind. She and her dad walked through his building. She remembered being so proud of her daddy. The love she’d felt for him flooded over her, just as it had when Sam had been talking about the importance of love and understanding.
Another tsunami of emotion welled up inside when she recalled how her own little hand had fit snugly—warm and protected—inside his own, calloused and strong.
“Daddy.” The word brought with it a new round of tears, and she slowly dropped to the floor on her knees. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t understand. I didn’t know what I was doing. I had no idea what you were going through, how you were suffering.” She wiped her nose on one sleeve. “I was selfish. I ignored your problems and only focused on mine. I’m sorry, so very sorry. Please forgive me.”
The emptying of her regrets forever changed her heart from anger and frustration to understanding and love.
“I love you, Daddy,” were the last words she remembered saying before her sobs and shudders finally transitioned into sleep.
Thirty minutes later Sandy awoke with a jolt. Her heart raced as she sat up and looked at her watch. Had it all been a dream?
She slowly stood, brushing the dust off her jeans before walking toward the door. Once there, she turned and scanned the empty warehouse. “He was my dad,” she said with firm conviction. “I can do better.”
Five minutes later she was busy in the center of the floor with a mop and a bucket.
“I owe him more.”