“How about living a quiet life for the rest of your days in your hometown . . . ?”
When I was young, my father was diagnosed with cancer and he said that his days were numbered. Saying that it remained at most six months or so, the doctor advised him convalescence in his hometown. Although he wanted to stay longer at the hospital, because of the expensive medical expenses which we were unable to provide, father had to come home with a lot of painkillers.
Father was a man of iron will enough to get the nickname of “tiger village foreman,” however, after receiving the anticancer treatments, his hair fell out and he became so thin that I could not find a trace of the old father that he had been. Nevertheless, he tried hard not to show any signs of sickness.
One day, father called laborers to our house. Mother tried to stop him, saying, “What are you going to do in the condition you’re in?” However, she could not dissuade him from his bullheadedness. A few days later, in the open space in front of our house, the construction began. Father planned to build a warehouse and install a grain dryer. Considering the size, it was the biggest warehouse in our village.
Father went around the labor scene every single day until the warehouse was built up. In the cold weather, though his face turned pale and his limbs became frozen hard, he checked and took care of the warehouse again and again next to the workers. Despite suffering from the pain, he endured it day by day, getting pain relief injections secretly. Every night I heard father groaning in pain, and mother sobbing while kneading for hours his arms and legs which were becoming paralyzed. Watching mother, I felt frustrated: ‘Why on earth is she doing that, and making it hard on herself?” And then I was busy going to sleep by myself. Finally, at the end of fathers’ waiting, the warehouse was completed; to him, a day could have been like a year. And before long, father closed his eyes, leaving his last will that we, siblings, should get along with each other.
Twenty years have passed since my father passed away. The warehouse he left has been very helpful to our household. Before, it was quite burdensome to dry rice after harvest. Since there had been no proper place, we spread the grain out on the road, and at sunset we had to pick them up with our hands one by one; it was very tough. However, using the grain dryer, our work was done quite easily and we could lend the warehouse and receive the rent as well. Father had planned to prepare the warehouse and the grain dryer for his wife and immature children who would farm alone without him later, thinking if we dried the rice with a machine, the work would be much easier and more convenient.
Whenever I go to my hometown and see the warehouse and the grain dryer, my father comes to mind. At the end of his life, how urgent he must’ve felt! Father endured his pain to the last minute of his life in order to leave even one more thing for his family. The warehouse which was built with difficulty was a precious property father had left, and his unuttered love. Heavenly Father’s unlimited love was contained in each book of truth written by Himself. While doing hard labor and looking for His lost children all over the country, Father left the book of truth without fail and opened the way to salvation for the children who would return in the future.
I reflect upon the past if I have lived, forgetting the importance of the truth that Father found back with His sacrifice. I should have delivered the truth with the heart of Father who wanted even one more soul to be saved, but I feel sorry because it seems that I have tied my hands together behind me.
Although late, from this present moment, I will take care of Zion (WMSCOG) prepared by Father’s blood and sweat, and go into the world with the words of truth to find my brothers and sisters, so that Father’s untold labor and His boundless love will not be in vain.