A Scrap of Grace

Thirty-five years ago this week my father died suddenly from a heart attack at age 48. The weeks before his death had been tumultous. He was under pressure at work (we learned later). There was conflict between my father and sister about which we had harsh words. Despite the struggles our relationship was changing. We were beginning to relate more adult to adult. We had more conversations and fewer arguments.
In the days after his death my mother showed me a scrap of orange paper. It was a partial sheet of paper with a pencil sketch of a bonzai tree. Apparently my father intended to paint the tree as a gift for me.
Although I was in seminary preparing to become a pastor, my spiritual journey had led me to serious exploration of Zen Buddhism. My dad thought I was weird. Our worldviews were often in conflict. But that scrap of paper conveyed a desire on his part to connect with the core of my emerging self ... my soul.
It was the best gift my father ever gave me: A father's desire to accept, affirm and love his son. An amazing scrap of grace.