29 Then he gave them these instructions: “I am about to be gathered to my people. Bury me with my fathers in the cave in the field of Ephron the Hittite, 30 the cave in the field of Machpelah, near Mamre in Canaan, which Abraham bought along with the field as a burial place from Ephron the Hittite. 31 There Abraham and his wife Sarah were buried, there Isaac and his wife Rebekah were buried, and there I buried Leah. 32 The field and the cave in it were bought from the Hittites.”

33 When Jacob had finished giving instructions to his sons, he drew his feet up into the bed, breathed his last and was gathered to his people.

Dear God, this isn’t that important, but I think it is interesting that Jacob will end up being buried with Leah and not Rachel. I’m surprised he didn’t give instructions to have Rachel moved too since where he was buried was so important to him. Anyway, it isn’t important, I don’t think. Just interesting.

I wonder how each of the sons felt when Jacob died. I am sure the ones who were cursed by him at the end were conflicted between loving their father, hating their father, and the sense of knowing that they would never be able to earn their father’s respect back because he was gone. I’m sure that Joseph and Benjamin really grieved in a more pure way, simply loving their father and missing him.

Yesterday was my mother-in-law’s birthday. She passed away just over 19 months ago, and it was a hard day for my wife. Even though there were things about her mother that frustrated her (who doesn’t have things about their parents that frustrate them?), she deeply loved her mother. Of course, there were some areas where my wife felt like she didn’t live up to her mother’s expectations and those are things that she will now have to come to terms with on her own and not ever have them physically resolved with her mother.

Father, that leaves me to my role and responsibility as a father to my children. How have I cursed them? How have I made them feel like they don’t measure up—all in the name of trying to mold them into the people they need to be for life. I know I have scarred them, and that thought kills me. I know they have wounds from me that will never fully heal, no matter how much I try. We all carry those wounds around. We all carry those scars. They are a little like the scars that I can see on my skin from childhood. They aren’t anyone’s fault, but I will forever have a reminder of that bicycle accident when I was 11-years-old because I can see the scar on my right knee. So help me to not scar my children anymore, and help me to bless them and not curse them so that they might live lives that are both submitted to you and in peace.