It was the only memory I had of the first five years of my life.
I can see myself perched on his shoulders at an amusement park. I see a blue sweater with a matching cap and a laughing face. I remember the rotating lights of the Ferris wheel, and I am higher than anyone else in the park. I reach my hands down and place them on my father's cheeks. He reaches up and rubs my hands with his own, then turns, and we walk off in the direction of the Ferris wheel.
Only one thing is wrong with my memory: I cannot see my father's face.
So begins Seth's quest to understand why his father left his fledgling family and never returned. His search leads him to other men where he learns valuable truths--to Grandpa, who taught him to love the scriptures; to Uncle Morgan, who taught him self-reliance; to Uncle Jens, who taught him the importance of repentance. As he endures the pains and joys of young adulthood, he learns the depth of God's love and, at the feet of the Master, finally learns how to forgive his own father.
It was the only memory I had of the first five years of my life.
I can see myself perched on his shoulders at an amusement park. I see a blue sweater with a matching cap and a laughing face. I remember the rotating lights of the Ferris wheel, and I am higher than anyone else in the park. I reach my hands down and place them on my father's cheeks. He reaches up and rubs my hands with his own, then turns, and we walk off in the direction of the Ferris wheel.
Only one thing is wrong with my memory: I cannot see my father's face.
So begins Seth's quest to understand why his father left his fledgling family and never returned. His search leads him to other men where he learns valuable truths--to Grandpa, who taught him to love the scriptures; to Uncle Morgan, who taught him self-reliance; to Uncle Jens, who taught him the importance of repentance. As he endures the pains and joys of young adulthood, he learns the depth of God's love and, at the feet of the Master, finally learns how to forgive his own father.