glanced up and smiled.
“I don’t mean to disturb you,” Benjamin said.
“Do you wish to talk some more?”
“No. Please continue with your reading.” Benjamin got to his feet. “Perhaps I shall read also.” He took his Bible from his carpetbag, then sat again and opened the covers. But he couldn’t concentrate on the words before him. He felt a deep disquiet inside and knew it had to do with his son.
Rebekah wanted him to be more lenient with the boy. Yet the Word of God clearly instructed, “Spare the rod, spoil the child.” His own upbringing had mirrored such a philosophy, though his father had no concept of the spiritual basis of such. Richard Sinclair had ruled his home with a heavy hand, using the kind of unbending discipline he had learned from his years as an officer in the army. Col. Sinclair’s sons were but soldiers under his command.
Yes, when he was young Benjamin had resented his father for the constant drilling of instruction, for the complete lack of mercy, and especially for the many beatings given when orders were not carried out with due military precision. By comparison, Benjamin was moderate with his own son, but still he could not ignore the teachings of the Scriptures. He sincerely believed that applying spiritual truths would make the difference in disciplined child rearing. If his own son resented him, it was because of the boy’s rebellious nature, not due to any flaw in the handing out of God’s truths.
Yet in this present situation regarding his son, he was forced to admit that Rebekah might be right. It had not been easy for the boy to leave friends and family. And the struggles upon the trail had only magnified his bitterness about the move. Perhaps it would not harm Micah if Benjamin dealt a lighter hand while the boy adjusted. Benjamin set aside his Bible, rose to his feet, and headed outside.
Micah was sitting on the front porch whittling a small tree branch he had no doubt found lying under the oak planted near the house. The sun had set behind that oak, leaving the sky a dusky orange and the grounds in partial shadow. Benjamin saw Micah’s face in dark silhouette, and the boy did not look up in response to his father’s approach.
“Micah.” Benjamin walked around to where he could get a clearer view of the boy.
“Yeah.”
Benjamin bit back a sharp retort at his son’s disrespectful response. He had sought out the boy in order to reason with him calmly and peacefully. Why did the boy always make that so difficult?
“Son, we have been traveling for a very long time.” Benjamin stood awkwardly before the boy. He considered sitting next to him on the step, but Micah had planted himself directly in the middle, thus Benjamin would have had to ask to sit there. He felt that would undermine his authority just when he needed it most. Clearing his throat, he began again. “In deference to the hardships of our journey, I have been amiss in maintaining proper discipline these last several weeks. For that reason, I will not blame you entirely for your crude behavior earlier. In this instance I believe mercy is called for. It is natural for a person, be he man or child, to revert to his sinful nature when there is no discipline to restrain him. But from now on I will not permit further breech of those things you know to be right and proper. We will soon be in our new home, and I will expect you to behave in a way that honors your home and those who live in it. Do you understand?”
“Yeah—I mean, yes, sir. At least I understand most of it.”
“What is it you don’t understand?”
“That part about home. My home is in Boston, with my grand-parents and my cousins and my friends. Texas will never be my home.”
“It will come to be. Wait and see.”
“No! It won’t!” Micah looked up, his eyes burning.
“Don’t talk back to me!” Benjamin replied with as much fire, then regretted the rebuke. This was not how he had planned this discussion to progress.
“I don’t mean to disturb you,” Benjamin said.
“Do you wish to talk some more?”
“No. Please continue with your reading.” Benjamin got to his feet. “Perhaps I shall read also.” He took his Bible from his carpetbag, then sat again and opened the covers. But he couldn’t concentrate on the words before him. He felt a deep disquiet inside and knew it had to do with his son.
Rebekah wanted him to be more lenient with the boy. Yet the Word of God clearly instructed, “Spare the rod, spoil the child.” His own upbringing had mirrored such a philosophy, though his father had no concept of the spiritual basis of such. Richard Sinclair had ruled his home with a heavy hand, using the kind of unbending discipline he had learned from his years as an officer in the army. Col. Sinclair’s sons were but soldiers under his command.
Yes, when he was young Benjamin had resented his father for the constant drilling of instruction, for the complete lack of mercy, and especially for the many beatings given when orders were not carried out with due military precision. By comparison, Benjamin was moderate with his own son, but still he could not ignore the teachings of the Scriptures. He sincerely believed that applying spiritual truths would make the difference in disciplined child rearing. If his own son resented him, it was because of the boy’s rebellious nature, not due to any flaw in the handing out of God’s truths.
Yet in this present situation regarding his son, he was forced to admit that Rebekah might be right. It had not been easy for the boy to leave friends and family. And the struggles upon the trail had only magnified his bitterness about the move. Perhaps it would not harm Micah if Benjamin dealt a lighter hand while the boy adjusted. Benjamin set aside his Bible, rose to his feet, and headed outside.
Micah was sitting on the front porch whittling a small tree branch he had no doubt found lying under the oak planted near the house. The sun had set behind that oak, leaving the sky a dusky orange and the grounds in partial shadow. Benjamin saw Micah’s face in dark silhouette, and the boy did not look up in response to his father’s approach.
“Micah.” Benjamin walked around to where he could get a clearer view of the boy.
“Yeah.”
Benjamin bit back a sharp retort at his son’s disrespectful response. He had sought out the boy in order to reason with him calmly and peacefully. Why did the boy always make that so difficult?
“Son, we have been traveling for a very long time.” Benjamin stood awkwardly before the boy. He considered sitting next to him on the step, but Micah had planted himself directly in the middle, thus Benjamin would have had to ask to sit there. He felt that would undermine his authority just when he needed it most. Clearing his throat, he began again. “In deference to the hardships of our journey, I have been amiss in maintaining proper discipline these last several weeks. For that reason, I will not blame you entirely for your crude behavior earlier. In this instance I believe mercy is called for. It is natural for a person, be he man or child, to revert to his sinful nature when there is no discipline to restrain him. But from now on I will not permit further breech of those things you know to be right and proper. We will soon be in our new home, and I will expect you to behave in a way that honors your home and those who live in it. Do you understand?”
“Yeah—I mean, yes, sir. At least I understand most of it.”
“What is it you don’t understand?”
“That part about home. My home is in Boston, with my grand-parents and my cousins and my friends. Texas will never be my home.”
“It will come to be. Wait and see.”
“No! It won’t!” Micah looked up, his eyes burning.
“Don’t talk back to me!” Benjamin replied with as much fire, then regretted the rebuke. This was not how he had planned this discussion to progress.
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