A Dozer Full of Memories

Tony showed up last weekend with his dozer to help us with the excavation for the farm. He dropped it off so Brian could get a head start, but there was more to do than one weekend could hold. Without being asked, Tony came back. Day after day, from sunrise to sunset, he worked, quietly, steadily in the sunshine and rain. He showed up not just with a machine, but with a heart full of love and a spirit full of grace.

This dozer isn’t just any piece of equipment; it belonged to his daddy, Junior. He was like a brother to my father. They shared a bond that ran deep, built through years of friendship, laughter, heartache, and quiet understanding. As I watched Tony out in that field, with his daddy’s dozer carving into the earth, I felt something holy. It was as if time slipped backwards, and for just a moment, my dad and Junior were there again, standing in the field watching their children and grandchildren carry on with life and create a place they could have never imagined. 

What happened in that field was more than excavation. It was love in motion. It was legacy rising from the ground. It was the kind of quiet, sacred loyalty that only grows from generations of friendship and shared roots.

This is what love looks like. Not loud or flashy. Just steady and faithful. Just a man showing up, giving of himself, honoring the memory of those who came before by helping to build something meant to last.

This is community at its best. This is friendship that lives on in the soil. And this is how we know that even when our fathers are gone, their love never leaves the children, friends, and  community they once loved.