Tribute to My Father

As March first is dad’s birthday I was touched to have the tribute which I wrote for him published in Keys to Living this past month. It has been almost nine years since dad stepped across the threshold into heaven but I am posting this as an encouragement to anyone passing through a time of grief or struggling in their relationship with a parent. The good news is that God is the perfect parent and helps us even when we don’t know that He is near:

I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that dwelt first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, dwells in you as well.                                        2 Timothy 1:5 ESV

Dad never had the chance to take me fishing or hunting. We never went to the beach together and he never taught me how to ride a bike. In fact I had seen my father only twice before the day where we met face to face at family court room and a judge decided our future.

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The judge’s ruling came with a signature on paper but building a relationship without the experience of years together was a battle. As a confused and often selfish teen I fought regularly with Dad about my long hair and the Vietnam War. But miraculously, six years later; there was Dad with Amy, my step-mom at my wedding. Just a year later they returned to hold our first-born son Chris and again two years later for our youngest, Ben.

As the boys grew older we shared picnics and church pews. Wonderfully we found that all the things we never had the chance of doing, we did together with Chris and Ben. We chuckled at Dad’s slow driving, silly jokes and gentle answers but we admired the faith that kept him going through years of caring for Amy as Parkinson’s slowly robbed her mind, and strength. He turned down outside help, because he felt that it was both his duty and privilege. Later after she passed into God’s presence, we couldn’t understand but had to accept that he chose to live alone. Alone, he never missed his church where he served as head usher and his well-worn Bible was continuously filled with notes and Bible study outlines.

When I wondered how he could do it all, I recalled a day he told me of a day during WW2. In his duties with an artillery battery. He explained that his duty was to calibrate the trajectory for each shell and on that morning as he checked over his coordinates he discovered to his horror that he had made a terrible mistake. Just as the gun was getting ready to fire he realized that the target range was far short of enemy lines and that American GI’s were in his gun’s sights. “Wait!” he called out, and the gun was not fired. Precious lives were spared. How strange that in the middle of war, Dad’s favorite memory was that he was able to save lives.

All of us miscalculate many things about life. Dad has helped me to discover that it is okay to own up to our own weaknesses and failures. Today my hope is no longer based on having a perfect situation or family. Today I sit in his chair and live in the house that once was his home and I am learning to trust in the Savior who guided Him safely home; recalibrated and right on target!

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What is a Father?

As I was growing up a father meant three things. First there was the invisible father who had disappeared and I couldn’t remember. This one seemed mysterious and of doubtful character. Then there was the suddenly appearing father. He was always right and quick to correct. He taught me many good things but was fearful to know until the day he also disappeared. Last came a nicer gentler father who was kind to us for a few years. He was interesting and funny however he also followed the others out our door.

Over a lifetime of looking back and remembering those men I realize that in some way each taught me something about God.

God is indeed mysterious and invisible like my real dad seemed. As a young man I was fortunate to finally meet him and we formed a friendship that lasted a lifetime.

My stepfathers both struggled as all of us do with a fatherhood that was suddenly thrust on them. From Arthur I learned the love of music though I hated everything about music lessons. People call it a gift but it is a gift that only grows in the discipline of practice. Last came Rudy the artist who caught us in our angry teenage years and still instilled in my sister and I the amazing idea that we had value beyond our performance.

Last of all came a father who I didn’t realize was pursuing me. My heavenly Father continued to call down through the pathways I ran. He never gave up in search of my heart and never turned away in spite of my sin. He is truly our Heavenly Father and the most wonderful good news is that it is His good pleasure to give us His kingdom. We cannot come by figuring him out. We can never be good enough to win him over by our abilities. We do not have strength great enough to hold on to Him. Our part is only to stop running long enough for Him to catch us on the pathway. Then He will take our hands in an eternal grip and joyfully lead us safely home to Him!