The Builder

In 2018, my father died of esophageal cancer. Recently, my father-in-law informed me he's battling stage-four small bowel adenocarcinoma (SBA). When he first informed my wife and me, he said, "Don't come out. Let's wait and see how the chemotherapy goes."

I knew from my father's battle, that "waiting until..." is a poor assumption. And, given the survival rate for SBA is extremely low — around 30% over five years — "waiting" doesn't seem like a luxury.

During my father's battle, I spent a week being his 24-hour caretaker, and when he only had days left, I got to spend the night with him in the hospital to give my mom a break. Those days are etched in my memory.

I wanted to etch more memories with my father-in-law, so I flew to Eugene to spend ten days with him.

He's a builder. He built the house he lives in, custom homes, a church, the deck on our home, and the gazebo in our backyard. Service is his love language, and his building projects are his way of saying, “I love you.”

So, this trip, he wanted to pass down his way of saying "I love you" and a part of himself by teaching me how to build cutting boards. We spent hours in his garage and a community woodshop, where he meticulously taught me each step. He was thrilled when I finished four boards.

"Now, make sure you do this in Memphis so you don't forget," he admonished.

"I will," I promised.

It's easy to forget that time isn’t fungible. It can’t be earned, saved, or traded. It's spent, and I’m grateful I spent it in Eugene — slowing down, being present, learning, and enjoying the relationship with the only earthly father I still have.

Is there someone that you've been "too busy" to spend time with? Perhaps you can find the margin to slow down, too, and enjoy their relationship. Their future here is not promised, and neither is yours.