Donald, You Had One Job!

I said, “Donald, I need your help, boy,

Keep those chickens in the pen.

I’ll be back in just a minute—

Don’t make me round ’em up again.”

He sat up straight beside that gate

Like the finest farm dog born.

I came back five minutes later—

One chicken in the driveway,

Two underneath the porch,

One headed for the garden…

And Donald?

Sound asleep in the warm.

I yelled,

“DONALD! YOU HAD ONE JOB!”

He opened one eye real slow.

Looked at the chickens.

Looked at me.

Then looked at that busted gate latch

I’d been promising all week to fix.

Uh-oh.

Donald, you had one job,

And I had one of mine.

Funny how we notice somebody else’s

Before we notice what’s behind.

You can point a paw,

I can point a finger,

We can blame till daylight’s through—

But responsibility starts when I quit asking

“What did they do?”

And ask,

“What was mine to do?”

Get right.

Do right.

Own your part.

That’s how little acts of faithfulness

Build a dependable heart.

I said, “Now don’t you look at that latch.

You still should’ve stayed awake.”

Donald yawned.

I said, “This conversation

Is about YOUR mistake.”

He stared at me.

Then at the screwdriver

Still sitting where I’d laid it down.

Then back at me with that dumb-dog face

That somehow turned my sermon around.

I said,

“Don’t start.”

His tail thumped twice.

Like,

“I’ll own the nap, Dad…

You gonna own the latch?”

Well…

That’ll preach.

Donald, you had one job,

And I had one of mine.

Funny how we notice somebody else’s

Before we notice what’s behind.

You can point a paw,

I can point a finger,

We can blame till daylight’s through—

But responsibility starts when I quit asking

“What did they do?”

And ask,

“What was mine to do?”

Blame’s a funny thing—

It can run faster than a chicken

Through an open gate.

It’ll tell you why it wasn’t your fault

While your own work sits and waits.

But getting right means telling the truth:

“That part right there was mine.”

No excuses.

No hiding.

No waiting for somebody else

To get right first this time.

God never asked me to carry everybody’s load.

Just be faithful with the part

He put in my hands.

One small thing.

One next-right thing.

Then do it again.

So Donald and I went chicken hunting.

He chased three the wrong way.

I caught one.

He barked at a bucket.

Not sure what that accomplished.

But eventually we got all five back home.

Then I fixed that broken latch.

Donald stayed beside me the whole time.

Mostly chewing on the wrench.

I said,

“Boy, I think we learned something today.”

He looked proud.

I said,

“You own your part—

I own mine.”

Donald dropped the wrench.

Then stared at the muddy paw prints

He’d left across the porch.

I said,

“Nope.

That one’s all you.”

We all got one job,

Then another when it’s through.

Be faithful with what’s in your hands,

And do what you said you’d do.

Don’t point a paw.

Don’t point a finger.

Let the mirror tell the truth.

Responsibility starts when I ask,

“What was mine to do?”

Get right.

Do right.

Own your part.

’Cause little acts of faithfulness

Build a dependable heart.

Next morning I walked outside.

Donald was sitting beside the chicken gate.

Wide awake.

I said,

“Well, look at you.”

Then I noticed…

The chickens were still in the pen.

But the gate was open.

I said,

“Donald?”

He looked at me like,

“Latch works, Dad.”

Fair enough.