We have all heard the terms that life is fragile, or like a vapor in the wind. It is here today & gone tomorrow. These phrases to a young 6th grader at McCune Attendance Center were noted, but never realized, even long after they should have stuck like a knife in the chest. Life in a big picture sense is never fully grasped at that age. The implications of one single event never seem to be sketched out in the cognitive process. However, the course of life paints an ugly picture for me of what might have been, and leaves me with an undoubted spirit of gratefulness.
A father.... Superman to most kids. The strongest person in the world. He can't be outdone by ANY other dad. Bulletproof. Untouchable. He could take on Hulk Hogan...and WIN. All of these are true thoughts of mine as a youth. In my 6th grade basketball season, we were taking on Weir in our end of the year tournament. Like all the other 6th graders I didn't really play in the A-games. Those spots were filled by the 7th & 8th graders. My parents never missed a game. EVER. Even though I was sitting on the bench. So you can imagine my concern as the game started when I couldn't find my parents. I quickly brushed it away because there is something on the farm that always goes wrong. Probably, a cow having trouble calving. Sure. That was it. As the game progressed, my parents remained absent. Sure I was aware, but I was sure there was a good reason. Definitely no reason to be worried. As the game ended, we celebrated the victory, and the vibe in the locker room was positive as we were headed to the Championship game. While we were changing, Greg Clawson, my best friend, asked me where my parents were. I responded that I hadn't a clue, and explained that it was probably some problem that I was glad I didn't have to help with. As we exited the locker room, Greg's parents stood outside. Bam. Immediately, I knew something was wrong. Greg's father tried to break the news easily: "Clint, your father has been in an accident." I can't really explain my thought process at that point. I didn't get it. I didn't grasp, or fully understand the severity of the situation. He was going to be ok. He had to be. He was Superman....
I'm sure my father can't even tell you the number of times he's had to deal with a momma cow and her calf. He'd been doing it for twenty years. Her endless grumblings, snorts, and aggressive attitude was just normal. My father had put the calf in the barn. This separation did not go over well. It was her & my father in the corral, just the two of the them. She caught and pinned Dad in the corner of the corral between the barn and the gate, took the flat of her head and rammed him into the corner. Dad struggled to his feet where he was immediately struck again in the chest. I'm not sure of the feeling, or thought process my Dad would have had at that time, but time had to have stood still. Three broken ribs, a punctured lung, and lying there bleeding internally. I'm sure the only thing going through his mind was: "I have to get out of here for my family." That was just the kind of man he is. I do believe in fate. I believe in miracles. I believe in the Big Guy Upstairs. There wasn't a whole lot of hope at that point for my father. He was trapped with a beast that had him outweighed and was innately bent on destruction. If he had tried to get up again, he would have been struck back to the mud. Hopeless... But as fate would have it, he was lying in the only part of the corral where the gate was high enough he could squeeze under. Dazed, bloodied, and in shock my father stumbled to his truck and laid on the horn hoping my mother would hear. After a couple of minutes of endless honking, he stumbled into the house. My mother, horrified, helped him into the bed where he laid bleeding until the helicopter arrived. That moment, even visualizing what it would look like, is tough for me to think about. My hero was broken, bloodied, and hanging on by a thread. He was life-flighted to Joplin. After going into shock several times and receiving massive amounts of blood, Superman fought through and survived.
The ugly picture is to think about the way my life would have been, had he not been in the one spot he could escape. I could never have imagined looking up into the stands and hopelessly searching for the man holding a video camera wearing a Columbia-Blue, #12 mesh jersey. The encouraging hugs after defeat. The joyful embraces of victory. His opinionated voice-overs on film. A teenage boy without a role model. No man of character to emulate. At the time it happened, it never struck me the way it does now. All of the moments we have shared since then... Playoff wins, sub-state titles, farm-talks, holidays, witnessing him with his grandsons and remembering that it used to be me riding that John Deere with him or getting that piggyback ride. Graduations, proms, and the congratulatory phone call after I got my first coaching job would have been without the greatest man I could ever hope to know.
Luckily for me, my life has been filled with all of those things. That ugly picture does not exist, but just remember that life truly does only give you one shot. One chance at every day to give it your best crack. It may get you from time-to-time, but it can not hold you down because you live for more than just yourself. You live for your friends, your family, and those who you don't even know you impact. I'm thankful God see fit to give me my father for awhile longer to learn and grow from his example. I thank God he lifted up that gate... :)
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