The Fire Truck

By Wayne Harmon

“What do you want for Christmas, son?”

“I want a red fire truck with a ladder, Daddy!”

“Okay. I’ll get you a red fire truck with a ladder for Christmas.”

“And will you play with me and my new fire truck? I’ll let you work the ladder!”

“Of course I will. I like red fire trucks with ladders, too!”

The little boy was so excited he could hardly sleep. He was going to get a red fire truck with a ladder! Daddy said so.

The next morning the little boy sat in Sunday School listening to the teacher talk about how important it was for all of the children to always be good little boys and girls. Then she began to ask them what they wanted for Christmas.

“I want a dolly!”

“I want army men!”

“I want a tricycle!”

“My daddy is getting me a red fire truck with a ladder!”

“Well that’s all nice. Remember, be good little children, or you won’t get anything for Christmas.”

This confused the little boy. His daddy didn’t say anything about being a good boy in order to get his fire truck. His daddy had simply said, “I’ll get you a red fire truck with a ladder for Christmas.”

But, the little boy didn’t want to mess up his chances of getting his fire truck, so he made a special effort to be a “good little boy.” The only problem was, he wasn’t sure what that meant.

He had never thought of his relationship with his father in terms of “good or bad”. He loved Daddy, and he knew Daddy loved him. He didn’t even think in terms of “obey or disobey”.

He did what his daddy told him to do, because he loved his daddy. If his daddy told him to stop doing something, he corrected his behavior without a second thought. He didn’t even think in terms of correction. It was simply learning what his daddy wanted, and he was thrilled to do it. He loved his daddy, and he knew his daddy loved him.

But after that Sunday School lesson, he began to see his daddy differently. He used to climb into his daddy’s lap to talk about all the imaginary fires they were going to put out, and how many people they were going to rescue with the ladder. Now he asked his daddy several times a day, “Are you really going to get me that fire truck for Christmas?”

“Of course I am, son. I told you I would. I love you.”

The little boy became obsessed with being “good”. He made his bed every morning. He put his toys away every evening. He brought his daddy his slippers when he got home from work. He would often ask, “Am I a good boy, Daddy?”

The father noticed the change in his son. Instead of rushing into his arms whenever he walked in from work, the little boy held back waiting for him to make the first move.

Instead of eagerly climbing into his lap and chattering about the first thing that popped into his head, his son stood back looking like a puppy that had been kicked one too many times. The unabashed enthusiasm and adoration was missing. Something had happened to his little boy.

“Come here, son. Sit on my lap and let’s talk. Is something wrong? You’ve been acting like you are afraid of me. Did I do something to frighten you?”

“I want to make sure that I’m a good boy so you will get me the red fire truck with a ladder for Christmas. I learned in Sunday School that if I’m bad you won’t go buy me the truck.”

Ah, yes. Nothing like religion to replace faith with fear, being with doing, and love with law.

“Son, I don’t have to go buy that truck for you. I already have it. I’m just waiting for Christmas to give it to you. I didn’t buy that truck because you’ve been good. I bought it because I love you, and there is nothing you can possibly do, either good or bad, that can change my love for you.”

The little boy felt like a real fire truck had just been lifted off his shoulders. His daddy loved him! He couldn’t make his daddy love him more by being good. He couldn’t make his daddy love him less by being bad.

Sitting on his daddy’s lap, listening to his daddy’s heartbeat, the little boy fell asleep, dreaming about the two of them putting out fires and rescuing people.

 

Copyright 2014: Wayne Harmon