A Family Man

 

 I had a dream, but I’m not sure how many little boys playing in their sandbox really dream about the boys they will raise. But at 5 years old, that didn’t matter. I had a “ditch digger;” a backhoe by professional definition, and my brother had a “road grader.” Yeah, a road grader’s definition is the same thing for all ages, no matter how old you are. Everyone knows what that is.

          In this memory, it’s somewhere in the early 80’s, my brother and I are in our sandbox, outside our father’s workshop, playing in sand that is more like the soft soil of a spring-fed hardwood bottom, bordered by a huge willow tree and more pines than you can imagine. There was a thin layer of sand in our box, the most sand our poor family could generate for us, but it wasn’t much. If you dug deep enough, you’d hit hard black soil; even deeper still, was the chert layer that is prevalent in northern Alabama, and especially in St. Clair County. Yes, the music group Alabama talked about using “chert rocks,” and it still surprises me how many people don’t know what that means.

          At any rate, my brother and I graded and dug imaginary roads and racetracks in our confined box, but in our released imaginations, we talked about “our boys.” They were the male offspring we would undoubtedly have, and those that we would raise to be men as good as our grandfather had been. He was a farmer. He was a blacksmith, a mechanic, and a man that everyone in our community respected. Yes, even before I knew what being a man was, I dreamed of raising one better than me. Such was the environment of my youth.

My dreams of raising godly men affected every part of who I was as I grew into adulthood. To me? Being a good man and raising the same? That was my duty. That was my goal in life. That was the burden I placed upon my young shoulders; yep, even in that sandbox; even before I knew what the definition of “burden” was. Before I knew what being a man of God meant, I was already a “family man.”

          Anyone who knows me, or has read the book I wrote, knows the whole story. I won’t bore you with it, but I was the only one of the three “Partain men” to have a son, and it didn’t go according to my “sandbox dreams.” It became the nightmare I dreaded, but also the blessing that I never dreamed or imagined it would be.

Elijah. My son. That name. My boy. The perceived fulfillment of a dream. Everything I wanted, and everything I dreaded, all in the two short years that I was completely unprepared for. How I wished I had loved him better and he had lived longer, but that didn’t happen. My dreams died with him, along with the “ditch digger” and “road grader” dreams of my youth. Their imagined engines all fell silent. Silent as the grave that he now lays in.

What do you do with that? Maybe more importantly for me, how do you see God in that? Through the murky waters of a life gone too soon? Through the heartache of a terminal diagnosis and the darkness of a son lost? Where was God in that? Didn’t He know my dreams? How can the thoughts of the little boy I was be contrary to God’s plan? Was I that fallen at 5 years old? Was my little soul that dark? How can I imagine a loving God letting a little boy dream of a son, only to let that son suffer and die? Where is love in that? Where? Someone tell me! These are the questions I asked in the Fall of 2008 as I watched Elijah fade into eternity. The “hows” and “whys” haunted me…and at times, if I am transparent, they still do today.

Perhaps this post is too dark for some; a glimpse into a still hurting and grieving soul. But it is what it is…it is life. But you know what? It’s a life redeemed; both mine…and his.

Yes, I asked those questions of God in 2008, in a fog of ignorance, grief, and desperation. To be honest, I still ask something like them at times today. You can fault me after you’ve lost a child of your own. God isn’t so simple when you’ve seen your child in a casket.

But in all this grief, I’m still a family man, and one who wants to honor God, even though my Partain name will die with me; I guess you could say that that desire was put into the ground alongside my son. It’s taken years, but God has removed that longing from me; to see my last name passed on to the next generation. Eventually, I finally saw what is truly important; what made my Grandpaw Partain such a good man. It’s the honor of the Name that will never fade. It’s being more concerned with the glory of Jesus…not me, or mine. Yes, I’m a family man…just not the family you may be thinking of, or the one I used to be concerned about.

I’m not so ignorant to think that you may be where I was all those years ago…and even at times today. You may be questioning how a loving God of light can allow dark and terrible things in your life. Your days may be consumed by the thoughts of what might have been. You may see your life as wasted, because your youthful dreams are long gone. Everything you defined your life by is no longer relevant. I get it. I’ve been there. Read the next paragraph…please.

First, do you know Christ? If not, nothing in this life will ever make sense. Nothing. The disappointments and despair of this life is all you’ll ever have…for eternity. If you do know Him, consider whose kingdom is more important. Yours? Mine? Someone else? No. It’s His. It’s in His kingdom, where my son is. It’s in His place of dwelling that my grandfather resides. That is where the answer to all of our questions are given…or are made unimportant. Don’t miss that last part. And because of His love for me…and them…and you…I do not concern myself, most days, with the thoughts of my failures and my name. After all, I didn’t build the house they’re in now. I didn’t champion the name they bear. I didn’t die for their souls. So then, how then can I question the one who did? And here is the most meaningful question I still ask my grieving mind and heart. How can I place my physical dreams and desires above the one who created everything? How can I demand answers from a God that sees and knows it all? How?

So, I want to encourage you today. Rest in His providence. Think about that for minute. He knows everything. He sees your heart. Yes, today may be your worst day, or it may be your best, but regardless, He sees it, and, as difficult as some days are to digest, He ordained it. Consider what Job said after all he had been through…

Chapter 42

1 Then Job replied to the Lord:

2 “I know that you can do all things;

    no purpose of yours can be thwarted.

3 You asked, ‘Who is this that obscures my plans without knowledge?’

    Surely I spoke of things I did not understand,

    things too wonderful for me to know.

4 “You said, ‘Listen now, and I will speak;

    I will question you,

    and you shall answer me.’

5 My ears had heard of you

    but now my eyes have seen you.

6 Therefore I despise myself

    and repent in dust and ashes.”

 

          Job had it right. It took him a while…like me. Job knew through his despair what it has taken me years to digest. “No purpose of yours can be thwarted.”….”I spoke of things I did not understand.”….

          And then….the best line of the book of Job.

 

“My ears had heard of you

                                         but now my eyes have seen you.”

 

          How wonderful it is when we “see” God through our pain, our grief, and our loss? How magnificent is it that He would trust me to know more of Him than what my ears have heard? To allow my spiritual eyes to have some sight amidst my failing faith? It’s glorious. It’s undeserved. It’s more joy than I can contain. Yes…even when I’m looking at the granite stone that bears my son’s name.

          Today you may be in a place that looks like anything other than love. Trust in the Lord. He is working…for His glory, and even if you don’t see it, He is there with you, if you are His, and He will see you through. That’s what He does for the members of His family…because he’s a family man too.