I remember getting the call from my Mom the morning that my Dad passed away. My wife was with our daughter and helping her with our week old grandson. Obviously, this was one of those moments where time stopped. My wife came in a few minutes later and I told her the news. We began to make travel arrangements to get back home. As we traveled back, I recalled a lot of events that had happened over the course of my life that involved my Dad.
One of my earliest memories was my Dad working overnight and delivering newspapers. We would listen to country music as we “helped” him get all of his route completed. When we were done in the morning, we would stop by a grocery or convenience store and get some candy and snacks. I also remember going with my Dad to his job as a security guard. He would play fight with me with wooden swords. I remember that I accidentally knocked a light panel loose in the ceiling while fighting him and climbing a ladder at the same time. (Being an electrician as well, he was able to fix it right away). I remember the roughness of my Dad's face as his whiskers would start to grow back after shaving. I also remember the delight he took in me when I was younger and how that seemed to change as I got older. It may be that it never actually went away, but it seemed as if it did. My Dad worked a lot of overtime and was gone a lot of nights and evenings and it just seemed like the job was taking him away from us. As my siblings and I got older and the busyness of life roared in, we saw less and less of him and maybe this clouded our view of his love for us. I know that we certainly had no understanding of how good a provider he was for us. I'm sure that we lacked the proper respect for him, until we got out on our own and saw what life was really like. I know that he was always a great provider of what we needed. Trouble is, our needs and wants were usually the opposite of what we wanted them to be.
I also remember that my Dad volunteered with church ministries in picking up people in a bus or a van to bring them to church. I remember it being important to him to bring others to church so that they could have a chance to come to Christ. My Dad had the heart of an evangelist and I remember him feeling the calling to preach. I think that he was stirred up inside and like many of us, was never certain about exactly what it was that God wanted him to do. He was revered in the churches of my childhood, but not nearly as revered at home, one of my greatest regrets. I remember times that I broke my Mom and Dad's hearts with the trouble that I would get into. They were always there for me and tried to point me to Jesus. I confused that with trying to be good and that they were disappointed in me because I was unable to “be good”. I don't remember really knowing how to live the Christian life as a youth and being frustrated with the whole thing. Not knowing how and not knowing who to ask for help, I felt the urge to leave “the game” of church. As I looked to my Dad as an example, I just remember how often he had to work and thinking that just doing the best that I could was probably all that God expected of me. Dad's job over the years kept him from church sometimes or he would work overnight on Saturdays and still try to make it to church on Sunday mornings.
As a grown-up now, I look back over those years and have to admit that I have learned a lot from looking back at my Dad's life. I've also learned many things on my own and through great pastors and authors that have helped to shape my faith. There are things that I have had to let go of, mainly regrets of hurting my Mom and Dad with my words and actions. There are also things that I wish that my Dad had taught me but he didn't have the time. Things that I never asked him to show me or teach me. I think as I got older, my Dad was able to learn from some of my life experiences. I remember our relationship seeming to improve as I got out on my own. (Probably because my know-it-all attitude was slowly melting away and I was realizing how right my Dad was about Life). As we each left the house, it seemed my Dad enjoyed the time that he had with us more. (Maybe he was just proud of how we turned out). I recall the day we had a water gun fight at my house for the 4th of July. With most of my family in attendance, Dad showed up with squirt bottles ready to go! He seemed to lighten up as we got older. (Maybe with the pressures of having to provide for six other people lifted, he was less burdened).
As my Dad's body was giving in to cancer, He seemed to be humbled by his life and all that God had allowed him to see and experience. It was during this time that he seemed to really experience God's love for him. It was also during this time that my siblings and I seemed to see my Dad for who he really was, a great provider who wanted the best for us. A man who wanted better for his kids than he knew his life would provide. A man that wanted his children to follow Christ and not be ashamed to tell others about the One who took our place on a cross. A man who was, above all else, proud of his kids, not just for what they were and could accomplish but also for what Christ could do in their lives. A man who had seen his children come through adversity the better for it. A man whose delight for his children still glimmered in his eyes. A man of few words, who did not let life end with anything left unsaid.
One of my earliest memories was my Dad working overnight and delivering newspapers. We would listen to country music as we “helped” him get all of his route completed. When we were done in the morning, we would stop by a grocery or convenience store and get some candy and snacks. I also remember going with my Dad to his job as a security guard. He would play fight with me with wooden swords. I remember that I accidentally knocked a light panel loose in the ceiling while fighting him and climbing a ladder at the same time. (Being an electrician as well, he was able to fix it right away). I remember the roughness of my Dad's face as his whiskers would start to grow back after shaving. I also remember the delight he took in me when I was younger and how that seemed to change as I got older. It may be that it never actually went away, but it seemed as if it did. My Dad worked a lot of overtime and was gone a lot of nights and evenings and it just seemed like the job was taking him away from us. As my siblings and I got older and the busyness of life roared in, we saw less and less of him and maybe this clouded our view of his love for us. I know that we certainly had no understanding of how good a provider he was for us. I'm sure that we lacked the proper respect for him, until we got out on our own and saw what life was really like. I know that he was always a great provider of what we needed. Trouble is, our needs and wants were usually the opposite of what we wanted them to be.
I also remember that my Dad volunteered with church ministries in picking up people in a bus or a van to bring them to church. I remember it being important to him to bring others to church so that they could have a chance to come to Christ. My Dad had the heart of an evangelist and I remember him feeling the calling to preach. I think that he was stirred up inside and like many of us, was never certain about exactly what it was that God wanted him to do. He was revered in the churches of my childhood, but not nearly as revered at home, one of my greatest regrets. I remember times that I broke my Mom and Dad's hearts with the trouble that I would get into. They were always there for me and tried to point me to Jesus. I confused that with trying to be good and that they were disappointed in me because I was unable to “be good”. I don't remember really knowing how to live the Christian life as a youth and being frustrated with the whole thing. Not knowing how and not knowing who to ask for help, I felt the urge to leave “the game” of church. As I looked to my Dad as an example, I just remember how often he had to work and thinking that just doing the best that I could was probably all that God expected of me. Dad's job over the years kept him from church sometimes or he would work overnight on Saturdays and still try to make it to church on Sunday mornings.
As a grown-up now, I look back over those years and have to admit that I have learned a lot from looking back at my Dad's life. I've also learned many things on my own and through great pastors and authors that have helped to shape my faith. There are things that I have had to let go of, mainly regrets of hurting my Mom and Dad with my words and actions. There are also things that I wish that my Dad had taught me but he didn't have the time. Things that I never asked him to show me or teach me. I think as I got older, my Dad was able to learn from some of my life experiences. I remember our relationship seeming to improve as I got out on my own. (Probably because my know-it-all attitude was slowly melting away and I was realizing how right my Dad was about Life). As we each left the house, it seemed my Dad enjoyed the time that he had with us more. (Maybe he was just proud of how we turned out). I recall the day we had a water gun fight at my house for the 4th of July. With most of my family in attendance, Dad showed up with squirt bottles ready to go! He seemed to lighten up as we got older. (Maybe with the pressures of having to provide for six other people lifted, he was less burdened).
As my Dad's body was giving in to cancer, He seemed to be humbled by his life and all that God had allowed him to see and experience. It was during this time that he seemed to really experience God's love for him. It was also during this time that my siblings and I seemed to see my Dad for who he really was, a great provider who wanted the best for us. A man who wanted better for his kids than he knew his life would provide. A man that wanted his children to follow Christ and not be ashamed to tell others about the One who took our place on a cross. A man who was, above all else, proud of his kids, not just for what they were and could accomplish but also for what Christ could do in their lives. A man who had seen his children come through adversity the better for it. A man whose delight for his children still glimmered in his eyes. A man of few words, who did not let life end with anything left unsaid.
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