A Comforting Scoop
(by Harrison Kelly)
My father was a simple man but he had a wisdom that could never be doubted. No matter the problem, he could always make the pain go away. From a small ice cream shop near the rice fields of Eastern Arkansas, he squeezed out a living. During the lean years of the Depression, he thrived but often some of his best customers did not. Often, they wouldn’t have quite enough to pay, but he’d always make sure everybody got a taste.
“ Can’t deny a man a little comfort,” he’d say, as he would scoop out a portion from a gallon tub with his walnut-handled ice cream scoop. “ God wants us to help one another. He wants me to do it with ice cream.”
So many times I saw him use that tool to come to my rescue, if I fell off my bike or twisted my ankle. With a relaxed tone of voice, he’d use that scoop to offer a friend a consoling dip of vanilla.
When I reached the age of nine, my father was soon to close the ice cream shop. Watching a fiery red sun set over a rain-soaked rice field, he offered me some words of wisdom that have lived on.” Always remember to offer those less fortunate a little bit of kindness.” After he said those words, he handed me the ice cream scoop I had seen him use to dish out tenderness. With a tear in his eye and a ripple in his voice, he said, “ One day, you will know how to use it, just as I have. ”
I held on to that gift, as it was the last time I saw him. My mother helped me strip the wooden handle and covered it with a new coat of varnish. We also discovered that the scoop was made out of silver. So, we polished it to a brilliant finish. On a wooden plaque bought from our neighborhood hardware store, the scoop was mounted. I placed the plaque on the wall of my room as if it was a trophy. Indeed, it was.
Twenty years passed and I found myself a father. One Sunday afternoon, I took my children over to their Grandma’s house for a visit after church. My kids loved going to Grandma’s just as I did in my youth. My mother and I chatted in the porch swing as the children sat on the ground looking for four-leaf clovers.
Suddenly, one of the children shouted in pain. It was a bee sting to the leg of my four-year old and tears coming from her eyes were real. I knew that she wasn’t allergic but still she was hurting. My mother ran in the house to find some first aid ointment. My wife ran to grab some antiseptic. I, on the other hand, just ran.
Wondering what to do, I paced back and forth. Suddenly, as if by magic, I remembered my father. Quickly, I ran into my old bedroom and pulled the ice cream scoop off the wall.
As my wife doctored my daughter’s leg, my mother looked on. In a few moments, I came from the kitchen with five bowls of chocolate ice cream, balanced perfectly in my hands. My mother smiled as she said, “ I see you found that ice cream scoop.”
I smiled in return and replied, “ I was taught by a good teacher.”
As I look back, I see that God was the Great Comforter. Sometimes He uses the painful moments in our lives to teach us. But He always softens our fall in ways we cannot see. That is why it was always my father’s ice cream scoop that provided the comfort but it rested in God’s hand.
© Copyright Harrison Kelly 1999 All rights reserved. (Used by permission)
A collection of Harrison Kelly’s short stories, Stories from a Loving Father, is available at www.ChristianBookcase.com.
(by Harrison Kelly)
My father was a simple man but he had a wisdom that could never be doubted. No matter the problem, he could always make the pain go away. From a small ice cream shop near the rice fields of Eastern Arkansas, he squeezed out a living. During the lean years of the Depression, he thrived but often some of his best customers did not. Often, they wouldn’t have quite enough to pay, but he’d always make sure everybody got a taste.
“ Can’t deny a man a little comfort,” he’d say, as he would scoop out a portion from a gallon tub with his walnut-handled ice cream scoop. “ God wants us to help one another. He wants me to do it with ice cream.”
So many times I saw him use that tool to come to my rescue, if I fell off my bike or twisted my ankle. With a relaxed tone of voice, he’d use that scoop to offer a friend a consoling dip of vanilla.
When I reached the age of nine, my father was soon to close the ice cream shop. Watching a fiery red sun set over a rain-soaked rice field, he offered me some words of wisdom that have lived on.” Always remember to offer those less fortunate a little bit of kindness.” After he said those words, he handed me the ice cream scoop I had seen him use to dish out tenderness. With a tear in his eye and a ripple in his voice, he said, “ One day, you will know how to use it, just as I have. ”
I held on to that gift, as it was the last time I saw him. My mother helped me strip the wooden handle and covered it with a new coat of varnish. We also discovered that the scoop was made out of silver. So, we polished it to a brilliant finish. On a wooden plaque bought from our neighborhood hardware store, the scoop was mounted. I placed the plaque on the wall of my room as if it was a trophy. Indeed, it was.
Twenty years passed and I found myself a father. One Sunday afternoon, I took my children over to their Grandma’s house for a visit after church. My kids loved going to Grandma’s just as I did in my youth. My mother and I chatted in the porch swing as the children sat on the ground looking for four-leaf clovers.
Suddenly, one of the children shouted in pain. It was a bee sting to the leg of my four-year old and tears coming from her eyes were real. I knew that she wasn’t allergic but still she was hurting. My mother ran in the house to find some first aid ointment. My wife ran to grab some antiseptic. I, on the other hand, just ran.
Wondering what to do, I paced back and forth. Suddenly, as if by magic, I remembered my father. Quickly, I ran into my old bedroom and pulled the ice cream scoop off the wall.
As my wife doctored my daughter’s leg, my mother looked on. In a few moments, I came from the kitchen with five bowls of chocolate ice cream, balanced perfectly in my hands. My mother smiled as she said, “ I see you found that ice cream scoop.”
I smiled in return and replied, “ I was taught by a good teacher.”
As I look back, I see that God was the Great Comforter. Sometimes He uses the painful moments in our lives to teach us. But He always softens our fall in ways we cannot see. That is why it was always my father’s ice cream scoop that provided the comfort but it rested in God’s hand.
© Copyright Harrison Kelly 1999 All rights reserved. (Used by permission)
A collection of Harrison Kelly’s short stories, Stories from a Loving Father, is available at www.ChristianBookcase.com.