Dad was a friend to everyone he met. I believe it was a God given talent. My oldest brother inherited the same attribute. I wish more of that would have rubbed off on me.
During the summer, when school was out, I occasionally went to work with dad and the crew on local jobs.
My dad wanted to learn to speak Spanish but he never quite mastered the language, however he learned several gospel songs in Spanish and would sing them to his Mexican colleagues at work, much to their amusement.
He was never bashful about witnessing for Christ at work, or anywhere else for that matter.
My dad had a passion for poetry and throughout the day would recite Longfellow and Poe, among others. The crew was mesmerized by his talent for reciting poems in their entirety.
As I write this my dad is entering his 102nd year of life
Dad had a good life, but in many respects he had a hard life too.
He never accumulated much as far as material things go. That never was his end game. As far as I know, he owned only one new car his entire life. In 1957 he and mom went to the Ford dealership in Nevada, MO. and came home with a brand new 1957 Ford Custom.
My dad knew how to discipline with love. And it was effective.
He was prone to discouragement, yet he always moved forward and managed to pull through.
He experienced grief. The kind of grief only a parent that has lost a child can understand. In 1992 they buried my brother, just older than me. Then in 2009 we buried my oldest brother, their oldest child. That took a terrible toll on both my parents.
I was in my thirties when I began to realize my parents were human like everyone else. Prior to that, I looked up to them as these two extraordinary humans with hardly a fault. As I matured, I begin to see their failures and the very human side of them. I believe that's when I realized I was not bound to follow in their exact footsteps, because they made mistakes from which I could learn, avoiding the pitfalls their humanness revealed to me.
I think the one thing I appreciate most about my dad is the foundation he laid, and upon which he built his family.
We live in a mixed up, convoluted, evil world. We see the narcissistic, selfcentered attitudes that has taken deep root in society. We that have been raised with Christian parents, have for the most part, been somewhat insulated from the perversions of the world. For that we should be thankful. I observe my friends and neighbors struggle with dysfunctional families. They search for footing on solid ground but there is none. Their vision is so impaired, they become intrinsically bound to fail. The children follow the way of least resistance and their lives are a horrid mess. I see it every day and am reminded of my dads unfailing love for me. A spiritual, unselfish love that surpassed his human instincts to follow the footsteps of least resistance.
Those of us who have been raised in homes where Christ reigns Supreme, are not always immune to the worldly influence pushing in, trying to disrupt our homes. To our dismay, it happens.
When I drift away and abandon my fathers example, that voice of conscience deep inside me, planted there by his concern for my welfare, gently reminds me of my fortuitous upbringing and brings me back home. And even though I fail often, I never feel like a failure. I know I've been cradled by my fathers love and everything will be ok. I feel anchored because of the gift of a solid foundation my dear old dad built for me.
