Little Red Wagon

red wagonYears have past,things have changed, and I’m not the little boy I once was, but I still remember home, hill, and the red wagon. Our home was the last one on a dead-end street. To get to our home, you had to drive down a fairly steep hill. On this steep hill is where I used a sled in the winter time. In the summer, as a six year old, I would take my red wagon and walk most of the way up the hill, get in the wagon and ride back down. One day my friend Bobby wanted to ride with me, so I said OK. When we got toward the top of the hill, Bobby suggested we ride down together. It was tight with two small boys, but we made it fit. We were doing fine until Bobby started tickling my ribs and I lost control of the wagon, went over the side of the hill and crashed, cutting my arm. Dad took me down to the local hospital where they put in about sixteen stitches in my arm. Years later, I still once in a while look at the scar and have to smile, because it reminds me of my first home, the steep hill and the little red wagon. I guess some scars we are allowed to keep, the ones on the outside of the body and some on the inside. Some of those inside, especially in the heart and head, need more healing time, and God helps each of us to deal with those. Those years are past now, but either as a child or adult, young or old, if we choose to forgive others,a lot of those scars will heal over faster. Be Blessed and Remain a Blessing.

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One Response to Little Red Wagon

  1. Dad, I love when you write like this. It’s gives me a window to your childhood, your feelings, etc., which I don’t know much about. (Now I’m crying as I write this.) I love you so much and I think what you’re doing here is wonderful! I love you!!!!!

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