One of my fondest memories growing up in Macon County was Uncle Theodore Chambers. He was not my real uncle, but because the children in the Woody family called him “Uncle,” so did I.
Uncle Theodore was a carpenter by trade, and a good one. He was a Christian by choice, and a real one. He served his church as a deacon, teacher, and song leader. He served his fellow man by lending a helping hand when and where he could. He was a good neighbor and my mentor.
One hot, July day, I went running bare footed down to the creek. The creek ran through Uncle Theodore’s hay field. I stopped to pick briars from my feet from time to time, because they hadn’t toughened enough to withstand briars.
With an old cane pole under my arm, I started chasing down grasshoppers for bait. After catching a few, I placed them in a Prince Albert tobacco can with holes punched in the top. I then made my way to the old wooden bridge.
I was standing there trying to untangle my line when Uncle Theodore walked up and said, “Got a mess there, looks like, son.”
He offered to help, as always; he had time for us kids.
The bridge timber was getting hot on my feet, so I stepped off the bridge into the water. I started asking boyish questions, like “Uncle Theodore, who built this bridge?” He replied, “Well, I did, son, back in ’49.”
I then asked, “How much wood did it take?” He was still trying to untangle my line when he said, “Oh, three locust logs and 30-40 white oak timbers.”
Finally, I asked, “How much wood will it take to build a bridge to Heaven.” Uncle Theodore said, “Well, son, I know a carpenter that built a bridge with two pieces of wood and three rusty nails.”
I looked up and said, “No way!”
He replied, “Yeah, that’s right, two pieces of wood and three rusty nails.”
Impatiently, I told Uncle Theodore, “You can have that old pole; I’ve got to go home now, anyway. Mama is making chicken and dumplings for supper and I better not be late.”
I remember hearing a deep chuckle from him as I walked away.
It wasn’t until many years later that I understood what Uncle Theodore meant that day at the bridge. Without a doubt, it was the greatest construction project ever accomplished on time, and it was paid for with the blood of another carpenter: Jesus Christ.
A few years after I had that talk with Uncle Theodore on the bridge, he crossed the bridge into Heaven. I feel sure he knows the lasting impression he left on his family and friends, including one bare-footed little boy who will never forget both carpenters and the bridges they built.