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My Father 父爱无边
发表日期:2017-03-30 14:31   文章编辑:澳门银河在线官方网址    文章来源:澳门银河在线官方网址    浏览次数:
 

     In August of 1993 my father was diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer. He chose not to receive chemotherapy treatments so that he could live out the rest of his life in dignity. About a week before his death, we asked Dad if he would play the mFatherandolin for us. He made excuses but said "okay". He knew it would probably其实澳门银河在线娱乐 be the last time he would play for us. He tuned up the old mandolin and played a few notes. When I looked around, there w无边as not a dry eye in the family. We saw before us a quiet humble man with an inner strength that comes from knowing God, and living with him in one's life. Dad would never play the mandolin for us 听听myagain. We felt at the time that he wouldn't have enough strength to play, and that makes the memory of that day even stronger. Dad was doing something he had done all his life, g父爱无边iving. As sick as he was, he was still pleasing others. Dad su事实上澳门银河在线娱乐re could play that Mandolin!

  When Dad was younger, he worked for his father on the farm. His fathe想知道澳门银河在线娱乐r was a farmer and sharecropped a farm for the man who owned the property. In 1950, our family moved from the farm. Dad had gained employment at the local limestone quarry. When the quarry closed in August of 1957, he had to see学会澳门银河在线娱乐k other employment. He worked for Owens Yacht Company in Dundalk, Maryland and for Todd Steel in Point of 其实澳门银河在线娱乐Rocks, Maryland. While working at Todd Steel, he was involved in an accident. His job was to roll angle iron onto a conveyor so that the welders farther up the production line would have it to complete their job. On this particular day Dad got the third index finger of his left hand mashed between two pieces of steel. 相比看FatherThe doctor who operated on the finger could not save it, and Dad ended up having the tip of the finger amputated. He didn't lose enough of the finger where it would stop him picking up anything, bu澳门银河在线娱乐t it did impact his ability to play the mandolin.

  In August of 1993 my father was diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer. He chose not to receive chemotherapy treatments so that he could live out the rest of his li澳门银河在线娱乐fe in dignity. About a week before his death, we asked Dad if he would play the mandolin for us. He made excuses but said "okay". He knew it would probably be the last time he would play for us. He tuned up the old mandolin and played a few notes.澳门银河在线娱乐 When I looked around, there was not a dry eye in the family. We saw before us a quiet humble man with an inner strength that comes from knowing God, and living with him in one's life. Dad would never play the mandolin for us again. We felt at the time that he wouldn't havMye enough strength to play, and that makes the memory of that day even stronger. Dad was doing something he had done all his life, giving. As sick as he 澳门银河在线娱乐was, he was still pleasing others. Dad sure could play that Mandolin!

  When Dad was young你看Myer, he worked for his father on the farm. His father was a farmer and sharecropped a farm for the man who owne对比一下澳门银河在线娱乐d the property. In 1950, our family moved from the farm. Dad had gained employment at the local limestone quarry. When the quarry closed in August of 1957, he had to seek other employment. He worked for Owens Yacht Company in Dundalk, Maryland and for Todd Steel in Point of Rocks, Maryland. While working at Todd Steel, he was involved in an accident. His job was to roll angle iron onto a conveyor so that the welders farther up the production line would have it to complete their job. On this particular day Dad got the third index finger of his left hand mashed between two pieces of steel. The doctor who operated on the finger could not save it, and Dad ended up having the tip of the finger amputated. He didn't lose enough of the finger where it would stop him picking up anything, but it did impact his ability to play the mandolin.

  I joined the United States Air Force in January of 1962. Whenever I would come home on leave, I would ask Dad to play the mandolin. Nobody played the mandolin like my father. He could touch your soul with the tones that came out of that old mandolin. He seemed to shine when he was playing. You could see his pride in his ability to play so well for his family.

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