When I was a little girl, I used to visit my Uncle Jack a lot. I love
spending the weekend with him and helping him out on his small
farm and caring for his three horses. He had a pony that he told
me that was mine if I would take care of her. Her name was Lucy.
When I was in fifth grade I entered Lucy in the 4-H county fair
and showed her in the halter, trail, and barrel competitions. Lucy
and I won a couple of blue ribbons and a red ribbon for second
place. She and I had such a good friendship. I was in sixth grade
that summer and feeling awkward. You know the stage of life I am
talking about, the threshold of childhood and womanhood. Pimples
spreading like a rash on my face, painful little bumps forming on my
chest, and curves taking hold of my once girlish figure. What an
awkward time for me.
This particular summer, I spent a lot of time with my pony, Lucy,
and my dear old Uncle Jack. We formed an unusual friendship. He
never had a daughter and he was going through a messy divorce
with my Aunt Pat. My mom would take me to Uncle Jack’s and have
coffee with him while I picked up his house, vacuumed for him and
general housekeeping. In fact, I learned how to use a washer and
dryer at my Uncle Jack’s and how to sort clothes. Due to a big
mistake with Clorix bleach, my Uncle had to go shopping for a new
wardrobe, which was a good thing, because now that he was single,
he needed a makeover anyways. Anyhow, on lots of evenings as the
sun was going down, we would saddle up Lucy and his big Appaloosa,
Buck and would take a ride along his property. We learned a lot
from these trail rides and talking to one another. On one particular
night we were riding and we came across a section in his fence that
a tree had busted down. It had been busted down for some time
and each time my Uncle Jack and I rode past it I would ask him,
“Uncle Jack, why don’t you fix that?” At first didn’t say anything,
he seemed lost in thought. He would do that sometimes, kind of
drift off with a sad look in his eyes with deep lines of
concentration would form on his face. It was when the sad look
took over that I would usually do or say something silly to snap him
out of whatever thought of sadness he was lost in.
One of the last conversations I ever had with Uncle Jack was about
that old fence. Oddly though, the conversation didn’t take place
until I was older, now a grown woman, mother, and a wife that was
going through a divorce herself. My Uncle Jack came by with my
mom one day because he had lost touch with me and didn’t know
how to reach me. When he visited my mom, she told him that I was
separated and going through a divorce. He told my mom he wanted
to come see me right away, so they hopped in to their vehicles and
he followed her to my house. When they arrived, I was going
through a bad, bad day. I was so lost in sadness I hadn’t showered
or dressed that day. My son was off for a visit that weekend with
his father, so I was alone and feeling it.
When I opened the door and saw my Uncle Jack standing there, I
lost it. I think I broke down because I had been out of touch with
such a dear friend since I grew up. As soon as I saw him, I felt
like that little sixth grade girl all over again, and he was my Uncle
Jack, my best friend. He turned to my mom and asked her to give
us some time. Well, mom left and Uncle Jack came in to my kitchen
and he sat me down at the kitchen table and said, “Gracie, you need
a good talkin’ to.” He says he did not know how it happened or even
when it happened but he and I lost touch and track of one another,
that maybe it was his fault, maybe my fault, or it was just “life
happening to us”. He started reminiscing the days I would spend
there cleaning out the horse stalls, bailing hay with him and his
boys. Cooking him dinner and cleaning his house, and finally, the
long trail rides he and I would take with Lucy and Buck.
He asked me about the day I asked him about the broken fence and
if I remembered it. I told him that in my memory of all the talks
he and I ever had, that was the only question I could remember
that I had asked of him that he never answered. He then sat down
at the kitchen table across from me and told me what the question
ended up meaning to him. He told me that after we brushed down
the horses that night and mom picked me up, he went in and got
ready for bed. As he lay there restless, the question about the
fence kept popping into his head and that he worried that maybe he
had hurt my feelings by not answering my question. He got up that
night and wrote down the answer to my question.
This is Uncle Jack’s Answer to why he did not mend the Broken
Fence: I look at that old fence, hundreds of feet of it, some of the
posts standing straighter than others, while others are beginning to
show the strain of time, enduring the elements of wind, snow, rain,
and sun. The elements of nature or life. He remembered putting
up that fence working long hard hours on it, making sure that each
post was solid, steady, and strong because this was to hold
something he valued safely within. He meant his horses and German
Shepherd, Erik within his property so nothing could happen to
them. As he looked at the section of fence that had given way to
the elements be it the forces of nature and maybe time as well, he
tried to figure out why it was this one section had given way. Was
it that he was extra tired at this part of laying it? Was it that he
was not giving it as much attention or effort at this section? At
the time he was laying it, he sure didn’t feel as though he had
neglected any portion of this fence, so he just couldn’t understand
why this section of fencing had let him down. The next morning he
went out to his barn and got the things he needed to fix that
section of fence and it stuck out because the old torn down
section, now looked new, fresh, and stood out from the rest of it.
Uncle Jack then took my hands and told me that he wanted me to
try to follow along with what he was trying to tell me and to trust
him that he was not crazy even if he sounded crazy. I struggled a
giggle out and told him he had my attention.
Perhaps if we look at life like a fence it would mean sometimes
portions of it break down and need mending or tending to. Perhaps
it is the part of our life we tend to neglect, we can see signs of the
wear that life is taking on it, but we just put it off because it still
seems to be going okay, it will be alright for a little longer.
Nothing can get out, or get in yet, it is still holding together good
enough. It is still working. Then storms come and go as days of
life continue to pass. In the preoccupation of day to day, we lose
sight of the strain that “ole fence” is taking, but as long as it still
is functioning, serving it’s purpose, it will be okay.
Uncle Jack squeezed my hand tighter and told me that I had run
into a broken section of my fence that I had been neglecting and it
was time to fix it, or I would lose everything. Do not try to fix it
to keep all else out, especially anything new, and in fact to let
everything out of that fence through the broken part. Throw all
that old stuff over the fence and fix it. Never let the old stuff
back in, the same things that preoccupied me in the first place to
let my fence finally breakdown. He told me not to do what he did.
Don’t let the important things breakdown, like love and
relationships. Don’t keep things trapped inside with a new fence
because the old one has been replaced.
Change that section and start new. Start by keeping your whole
fence strong, because if you let one section go, you will find that
eventually the fence is worth nothing when you let everything you
care for go out that broken part. It is good to keep some things
within, like the importance of family, friends, and love. But don’t
let your fence breakdown. Just make sure to throw the bad things
that are not good for what’s inside of your fence, like loneliness,
anger, and bitterness. Throw them over and out, let them go. If
you don’t do these things, then you really don’t care about what you
built the fence for in the first place then do you?
spending the weekend with him and helping him out on his small
farm and caring for his three horses. He had a pony that he told
me that was mine if I would take care of her. Her name was Lucy.
When I was in fifth grade I entered Lucy in the 4-H county fair
and showed her in the halter, trail, and barrel competitions. Lucy
and I won a couple of blue ribbons and a red ribbon for second
place. She and I had such a good friendship. I was in sixth grade
that summer and feeling awkward. You know the stage of life I am
talking about, the threshold of childhood and womanhood. Pimples
spreading like a rash on my face, painful little bumps forming on my
chest, and curves taking hold of my once girlish figure. What an
awkward time for me.
This particular summer, I spent a lot of time with my pony, Lucy,
and my dear old Uncle Jack. We formed an unusual friendship. He
never had a daughter and he was going through a messy divorce
with my Aunt Pat. My mom would take me to Uncle Jack’s and have
coffee with him while I picked up his house, vacuumed for him and
general housekeeping. In fact, I learned how to use a washer and
dryer at my Uncle Jack’s and how to sort clothes. Due to a big
mistake with Clorix bleach, my Uncle had to go shopping for a new
wardrobe, which was a good thing, because now that he was single,
he needed a makeover anyways. Anyhow, on lots of evenings as the
sun was going down, we would saddle up Lucy and his big Appaloosa,
Buck and would take a ride along his property. We learned a lot
from these trail rides and talking to one another. On one particular
night we were riding and we came across a section in his fence that
a tree had busted down. It had been busted down for some time
and each time my Uncle Jack and I rode past it I would ask him,
“Uncle Jack, why don’t you fix that?” At first didn’t say anything,
he seemed lost in thought. He would do that sometimes, kind of
drift off with a sad look in his eyes with deep lines of
concentration would form on his face. It was when the sad look
took over that I would usually do or say something silly to snap him
out of whatever thought of sadness he was lost in.
One of the last conversations I ever had with Uncle Jack was about
that old fence. Oddly though, the conversation didn’t take place
until I was older, now a grown woman, mother, and a wife that was
going through a divorce herself. My Uncle Jack came by with my
mom one day because he had lost touch with me and didn’t know
how to reach me. When he visited my mom, she told him that I was
separated and going through a divorce. He told my mom he wanted
to come see me right away, so they hopped in to their vehicles and
he followed her to my house. When they arrived, I was going
through a bad, bad day. I was so lost in sadness I hadn’t showered
or dressed that day. My son was off for a visit that weekend with
his father, so I was alone and feeling it.
When I opened the door and saw my Uncle Jack standing there, I
lost it. I think I broke down because I had been out of touch with
such a dear friend since I grew up. As soon as I saw him, I felt
like that little sixth grade girl all over again, and he was my Uncle
Jack, my best friend. He turned to my mom and asked her to give
us some time. Well, mom left and Uncle Jack came in to my kitchen
and he sat me down at the kitchen table and said, “Gracie, you need
a good talkin’ to.” He says he did not know how it happened or even
when it happened but he and I lost touch and track of one another,
that maybe it was his fault, maybe my fault, or it was just “life
happening to us”. He started reminiscing the days I would spend
there cleaning out the horse stalls, bailing hay with him and his
boys. Cooking him dinner and cleaning his house, and finally, the
long trail rides he and I would take with Lucy and Buck.
He asked me about the day I asked him about the broken fence and
if I remembered it. I told him that in my memory of all the talks
he and I ever had, that was the only question I could remember
that I had asked of him that he never answered. He then sat down
at the kitchen table across from me and told me what the question
ended up meaning to him. He told me that after we brushed down
the horses that night and mom picked me up, he went in and got
ready for bed. As he lay there restless, the question about the
fence kept popping into his head and that he worried that maybe he
had hurt my feelings by not answering my question. He got up that
night and wrote down the answer to my question.
This is Uncle Jack’s Answer to why he did not mend the Broken
Fence: I look at that old fence, hundreds of feet of it, some of the
posts standing straighter than others, while others are beginning to
show the strain of time, enduring the elements of wind, snow, rain,
and sun. The elements of nature or life. He remembered putting
up that fence working long hard hours on it, making sure that each
post was solid, steady, and strong because this was to hold
something he valued safely within. He meant his horses and German
Shepherd, Erik within his property so nothing could happen to
them. As he looked at the section of fence that had given way to
the elements be it the forces of nature and maybe time as well, he
tried to figure out why it was this one section had given way. Was
it that he was extra tired at this part of laying it? Was it that he
was not giving it as much attention or effort at this section? At
the time he was laying it, he sure didn’t feel as though he had
neglected any portion of this fence, so he just couldn’t understand
why this section of fencing had let him down. The next morning he
went out to his barn and got the things he needed to fix that
section of fence and it stuck out because the old torn down
section, now looked new, fresh, and stood out from the rest of it.
Uncle Jack then took my hands and told me that he wanted me to
try to follow along with what he was trying to tell me and to trust
him that he was not crazy even if he sounded crazy. I struggled a
giggle out and told him he had my attention.
Perhaps if we look at life like a fence it would mean sometimes
portions of it break down and need mending or tending to. Perhaps
it is the part of our life we tend to neglect, we can see signs of the
wear that life is taking on it, but we just put it off because it still
seems to be going okay, it will be alright for a little longer.
Nothing can get out, or get in yet, it is still holding together good
enough. It is still working. Then storms come and go as days of
life continue to pass. In the preoccupation of day to day, we lose
sight of the strain that “ole fence” is taking, but as long as it still
is functioning, serving it’s purpose, it will be okay.
Uncle Jack squeezed my hand tighter and told me that I had run
into a broken section of my fence that I had been neglecting and it
was time to fix it, or I would lose everything. Do not try to fix it
to keep all else out, especially anything new, and in fact to let
everything out of that fence through the broken part. Throw all
that old stuff over the fence and fix it. Never let the old stuff
back in, the same things that preoccupied me in the first place to
let my fence finally breakdown. He told me not to do what he did.
Don’t let the important things breakdown, like love and
relationships. Don’t keep things trapped inside with a new fence
because the old one has been replaced.
Change that section and start new. Start by keeping your whole
fence strong, because if you let one section go, you will find that
eventually the fence is worth nothing when you let everything you
care for go out that broken part. It is good to keep some things
within, like the importance of family, friends, and love. But don’t
let your fence breakdown. Just make sure to throw the bad things
that are not good for what’s inside of your fence, like loneliness,
anger, and bitterness. Throw them over and out, let them go. If
you don’t do these things, then you really don’t care about what you
built the fence for in the first place then do you?
By "Gracie" |
| Gracie's |
| Gripes, Griefs, and Gratitude |
 | |  | |  | |  |
| MENDING BROKEN FENCES, IS IT A GOOD THING? |
