Too Busy

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Five year old Johnny,
with a broken toy in hand,
came to Dad and asked,
"Will you fix my car, please, Daddy?"
Daddy, with head in paper,
not bothering to look up, said,
"Not now, son, go and play,
Daddy's too busy."
With a questioning look in his eye,
but not a word spoken, he went to play.
"Too busy," he thought.

Some time later, ten year old Johnny
went excitedly to his Dad and said,
"Daddy, Daddy, Mr Jones said the tide is right
and the fish are biting.
Can we go fishing, eh, Dad, can we?"
Daddy, with his eyes glued to the TV,
tinny in hand, watching his favourite
football team play.
"Not now, son, not now. I'm far too busy."
John, very disappointed, left the room,
muttering to himself,
"stupid football, anyway."

How the years fly! Sixteen year old John
came to his Dad and said,
"Dad, my team is playing in the Grand Final tomorrow.
"You are going to come and watch, eh, Dad?"
Dad looked his son in the eye and said,
"sorry, son, I can't.
I'm going fishing tomorrow.
I'll be far too busy."

John looked at his dad.
And the anger and the bitterness
that had been laying dormant for so long
throughout the years seemed to explode.
Looking at his Dad, he said,
"As far back as I can remember, Dad,
when I asked you for some of your time,
just a couple of hours, Dad,
you were always "too busy."
Well, I will never ask anything of you again.
I'm leaving."
Off to his room he went.
Throwing some clothes in a bag,
he stormed out of the house.

Down the road were others like him.
He soon found out there were lots of people
not too busy to show him how to steal,
and to drink and smoke, and
other unwholesome activities.
However, he was beginning to miss his
mother and his own room and bed.
He did admit there were some good times.
But, in a state of utter despair,
he crept into an unused shed
and tried to sleep.

"Am I dreaming?" he was asking himself.
"Am I dreaming? That sounds like my father's
voice calling me. But, somehow it sounds different."
"John, John, can you hear me? It's Dad.
I've come to take you home."
Up he got. He just had to see if it was really his dad.
Standing in the shadows, arms outstretched, was his dad. "Come, Son, let's go home."
On the way home Dad told him how much he was
loved and how much he was missed.
John knew he was a changed man. And he was.
In the absence of his son, he had time to think
about the way he had neglected his son, and was extremely sorry. And, he cried out, "Dear God, please help me," And He did.
And as he cried out in his desperation, he only hoped he would not hear,
"Not now, my son, go away. I'm far too busy."
Praise God, He never is.
And never will be.

Note:

Used by permission
Written by Elaine Weston (from Sarina)

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