I know. Yesterday was Father's Day.
I remember when my son was young worrying about how he would know to be a good father and a friend of mine said "He will know to be a good father by what he didn't have." Such prophetic words, for he is an awesome father.
He went home to be with the Lord twenty years ago. The last Father's Day with him, my mother, and two of their friends had dinner at Ledo. I had been teasing my parents prior to their friends joining us. There was a couple sitting near our table and during our meal as the couple was leaving the woman came over, knelt next to me and whispered, "Be good to them. I lost my Father recently." Those words were kind of prophetic as well, for in the next month my father had a diagnosis of throat cancer which was terminal. He never made it to the next Father's Day.
My Dad was a quiet man. He had a wonderful sense of humor; he could be such a clown. He loved to sing and I could listen to him for hours. Mom claimed he made the songs up because she had never heard of them. I figured I inherited that ability from him as I have often made up my own songs. My songs, mind you, have never been very good, however Dad's songs always were, at least in my view.
A psychiatrist who tested me when I was in elementary school (I was a weird, super-introvert) told my parents that I was terrified of my father. Later when I was an adult and was informed of the results of the testing I agreed with two of them but did not with this one. I have never been afraid of my dad; I have always looked up to him with admiration and respect. He wasn't perfect but that is maybe where the empathic side of me would kick in. Dad had a severe hearing loss and at times he could be a little cross when trying to listen to the news or things like that and kids are being loud in their play.
Dad loved the Lord with all his heart, and soul, and mind. I remember seeing him in his room either studying his Bible or praying. He always handed out Bibles to people who visited in our home and gave them as gifts. I believe all my friends received one. At work he had a rack he made filled with tracts and after he died a former co-worker told me that people would come by and pick up a tract or stop and talk to him about God. Dad taught Sunday school and he also preached at a senior housing in our neighborhood. My former husband did not want me to tell my father why we had separated; he told me that my father was the only person he knew who actually lived what he believed. That statement put me to shame as I knew at that time I was not living my faith.
My dad didn't have a Christian upbringing. He lived with his father, who was a musician, and they traveled all over the place. I remember my dad and grandfather sitting together for hours as my father would share the gospel with him. About five years before my dad passed away, I asked him how he came to know the Lord. I always remember going to church together as a family and we had family devotions. I don't remember my dad not being a follower of Christ. He told me that at first my mother shamed him into going to church by taking us children to church. Then one day he picked up my oldest brother's Bible and began to read it. It was through reading my brother's Bible that the Holy Spirit convicted my father of his sin, repenting, turning away from his sin, confessing Jesus as his Lord and Savior; he began a relationship that has gone on into eternity. At that time a light bulb went off in my head; that is why he always handed out Bibles!
I praise God and thank Him for my father who has inspired me to be just like Jesus.
