He is mysterious to me. Mysterious to me in the best, most mystical way.
I only know the man that was and is my DAD -- and it should be in capital letters. MY DAD. Glowing hero -- defender of the rights and feelings of little people. Provider, presider, protector. Friend. Under-dog swing pusher. The one who taught me that I could master my temper by shocking me with tales of how his used to be even worse (unthinkable from the man I have only seen truly angry once -- and it was a sight to behold). Christmas light putter-upper. Jet ride giver. Half of the force it took to convince me that Kindness beings with Me. Mumble under the breather. Merciless teaser. Builder of houses. Builder of others. The man who loves his wife more then anyone else I've seen. Kind. A server. An eye roller. A comforter with faith and stillness and strength. A very patient man. A very humble man.
A very quiet man.
Just my Dad.
My friends were terrified of him when we were children.
My friends were jealous that I had him when we were teenagers.
My friends are amazed by my Dad the Grandpa.
My Dad, you know?
My Dad is a convert to the religion I was raised in and cherish to the very depths of my soul. He is and always has been, with my dear Mother, a teacher of my faith, a builder of my faith, the igniter of my faith. When I sing "True to the faith that my parents have cherished" -- it is for them. It is a sacred responsiblity to me to be true to what they have each sacrificed so much for.
I have spent many hours, days, months, years -- completely at a loss as to why things happened in my Dad's life the way they did -- why my great-grandparents, my grandparents made the choices they did.
How my Dad had the courage to make the choices he did.
Though I can not know all that happens in his mind and his heart -- my parents are so much more then I will probably ever know -- I have always known one thing. One thing without a doubt.
My Dad's choices are his own.
He made the brave choice, the lonely choice, the only choice:
to do what was RIGHT.
Let the consequence follow.
It was his choice. His own.
No one could make him do it. No love could coerce him to do it.
Only Faith could make him take that giant leap.
His own personal faith.
And I think that is beautiful.
My life has certainly been preserved and protected and blessed by that individual choice that saved generations. And saved one little girl -- because I would not be the woman I am without it. I know that choice saved me.
So I thank God for my super DAD.
I wish everyone knew the man I know.
Saw the conviction I see.
I guess not everybody can understand that...
And that's okay.
I can be okay with that.
His family sure enjoys the benefits.
So we'll just be thankful!
My Dad is cool.
Woop-diddy-doo!
2 comments:
Ditto to all of your words.
I'll share a story of my own:
Many years ago, I met your dad on the sidewalk of granny's home. A little teasing went on, I kin of was refusing to get out of his way. He was victor. He picked my up just above my elbows on both arms and moved me. Physically moved me to a different place. Pain, treacherous pain. My scar from my zip line accident was no longer attached to the muscle. This was a good thing though, I'm sure it saved me from more surgery but, boy did it hurt.
He is such an amazing example. Always willing to serve others and he never seems to murmur.
This post seems a little early though. It was mother's day two days ago not fathers day.
Your words are true. His presence is epic in our lives. I cherish him and mom more than I can express. When it comes to dad, never has a man said so little and expressed so much. He is not perfect, but he says he is sorry and means it. He never holds on to anger. He has the Christ like ability to calm the storms of those around him. Mom was brave enough to stay in the face of a small town social disaster. Their marriage and choices stand as a witness of love and faith. Nothing has or will come easy and that is why it is all worth it. My parents taught me that. So to you momma and daddy, I shed a tear and say. . . I miss you. Thanks for teaching me love and fight for my family by example. p.s. Marie you are a butthead for making me cry.
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