Then it hit me:  "Dad!"                                                                                            
                                                             

I was soaked with sweat.  Covered with dirt.  All of my fingers had at least minor nicks and scratches.  Both palms had open wounds:  one from a cut, the other where the top layer of skin had grown irritated, bubbled up and then detached... all due to the constant movement of the shovel.

It was a hot, humid day.  I had given up trying to see through the droplets of sweat that kept forming pools on my sunglasses.  Sans shades, the challenge now was to blink away the sweat collecting on my own eyelashes--at least long enough to see what I was working on.  As I stood there sweating and blinking, I wondered what on earth had possessed me to tackle the day's project.

Maybe it was my friend in the nursery & landscaping business.  He had assured me that, "as stump removal goes, junipers are pretty easy.  Just loosen the dirt around the roots a little, hook up a chain to them and yank 'em out."

Foolishly, I neglected to ask Eric just what was supposed to be on the other end of that chain.  A backhoe?  Full-size pickup?  Dump truck?  In his business, he would have taken for granted the presence of any, or all three of them.   I now realize Eric would not have recommended trying the chain maneuver with a small family car.  But, since that is what I had....

I am glad to report that the family car did not become a casualty of this project.  But choosing not to burn out the clutch in order to "yank 'em out" meant that "loosening the dirt"... "a little"... morphed into a morning of digging.  Digging, sweating, blinking, blistering... and wondering what had possessed me to launch into this craziness.

That's when it hit me:  "Dad!"

From the time I could carry a brick or a hammer, I had toddled along after my father in an endless string of home improvement projects.  Though his parents had already moved away from full-time farming, his roots were in "the land," in Kansas farming stock.  And, though he spent a career as a military officer, his real loves were architecture, landscaping, carpentry and... well... "building stuff."  With the frequent moves involved in a military career, he had plenty of different houses and yards to work on.  So, all through my childhood and youth, we knocked out walls and redid rooms, laid bricks and built retaining walls, poured concrete patios, raised fences, put up studs and drywall, spread endless gallons of stain, varnish and paint.  Life in the Slade family was Do-It-Yourself Boot Camp, from as far back as I could remember.

So, locked in what seemed likely to become mortal mano-a-mano combat with the fifth juniper stump of the day, I had to laugh.  The apple, as they say, truly does not fall very far from the tree.  When faced with the need to remove our ailing junipers, why had my first impulse been to contact Eric, not to hire his crew to do the job, but to ask him how I could do it?  Dad!

"I love you, Dad... and I have the blisters, cuts, bruises and aching muscles to prove it!"  I was glad my shovel and I (and the car... and Cathy!!) had survived the final bunker-busting assault against the last juniper.  I even had enough digital dexterity left to push the buttons on my phone and make the call to Dad.  He laughed as he listened, remembering many such tales of sore from our days of yore.  "Do you remember that time when...?"

Jesus didn't use a cell phone.  But I can imagine him having conversations a lot like mine with his own Father.  For, when the leaders in Jerusalem got upset with some of the things Jesus was doing, here's what he told them:  "the Son can do nothing on his own, but only what he sees the Father doing; for whatever the Father does, the Son does likewise.  The Father loves the Son and shows him all that he himself is doing; and he will show him greater works than these, so that you will be astonished" (John 5:19-20).

A chip off the ol' block.  Like father, like son.  That's how Jesus saw it.  He was simply reflecting in his own life and work what he had learned from watching his Father.

Of course, that is putting it too simply.  But the point is valid.  The New Testament teaches us that the character of God is revealed, fleshed out, in Jesus.

What's more, Jesus invites all of his followers to join him in making the character of God visible in the world:  "Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven" (Matthew 5:16).

Sometimes when we read or hear those words, it sounds like a difficult challenge or burden, some kind of foreign-to-us behavior pattern to be adopted.  But, however challenging my DIY (mis)adventures might be, they are anything but foreign to me.  I come by them quite naturally.  Growing up with Dad, living in his company year after year, how could it be otherwise?  Some things just rub off on you... or work their way into you:  "I just do what I see the Father doing."

Anyone who knows us both would find it pretty easy to spot ways in which my behavior reflects what I learned by watching & accompanying my father.  Very probably, something similar is true of you and your father or mother.

Could anyone say the same thing about us and our Heavenly Father?

May the Spirit of God so move within and through you that others will spot the similarity and give glory to your Father in heaven.

Stan