The Story of my Cross

Too many years ago I had a kid working for me and he helped me with my first cross. Thank you grown up Barret Mills!

The cross was up in the middle of a sand pit that we had on the farm that was on a main road. We placed it on a nice grassy hill, and it was perfect.

Then we started having the sand mined. Milk prices were in the toilet, and having the sand mined was a blessing. But . . . the cross had to be moved. The first move was fine. It was the second move that the sand company did that caused a problem. The cross broke at ground level. That was last fall.

I didn’t really know of anyone who would be able to fix the cross and life raced in at such loud noises the past few months that it was shoved way back in the corner of my mind.

As the Easter season approached, I couldn’t help but think about it. So, using Facebook I asked for help on our local community page.

I had four different people offer to help. Ron was the first one to offer and I connected with him. What an amazing human. He was so kind! And what beautiful work.

On top of that so many wonderful people said how much they enjoyed the cross and what it stood for. It just made my heart happy.

I went to his shop to see the wood. When I got there, it was all notched out and ready to go. The cross bar wasn’t attached because it would be hard to travel to our farm in one piece. He told me he was cutting up firewood from a local area back in 2011 and saw the oak logs. They were just too pretty to cut and burn so he cut 8’X8’ timbers on his sawmill. The wood for the cross was left over and it had been sitting there since 2011. God saved it for me.

I was going to have my son pick it up, but Ron brought it over and put it together for me.

It’s white oak and it’s beautiful. Not to take away from my first cross and the work we put into it, but this is gorgeous wood and a little bigger than the original. And heavy is an understatement.

A total stranger went to the trouble and expense to create this work of art. I offered to pay him, and he said it was a gift. Proof that good humans are alive and well.

We added the nails to represent the nails driven into Jesus’ hands. While my son was hammering in the nails, I couldn’t help but think that sound of the hammer on the nails echoed so many years ago while Jesus willingly allowed the Romans to drive them into his hands and feet.

Once we had the nails in Farmer carried the cross out to the field on the JCB. Son #1, daughter-in-law, and I followed in his truck. We went back and forth trying to decide where to place the cross. The sand pit is active, and the cross will have to be moved again wherever we put it now, so we landed on this spot. It was a raised area and we thought it looked good there.

The hole was dug, and the cross was placed. And man is it totally plumb! Between Farmer and Son#1 and a level it’s perfect.

Farmer lifted Son #1 and me up so we could put the cloth on.

I think it’s beautiful. The wood is gorgeous, and it is solid.

We get so busy living life that we don’t think of the source of all we have and are. At least for me know I need to pay closer attention.

I hope if you have a chance to drive past the cross you take a moment and thank God for what you have, who you are and all your blessings. Mostly I hope you have a personal relationship with Jesus, who died for you and me on the original cross.