Dad

June 21, 2020

“Today must be hard for you.” His statement was sincere and compassionate. I was surprised he remembered; after all, we only see each other occasionally.

“Actually, no, it isn’t,” I replied. Dad was surrounded by his family in his favorite place by the lake. He had just finished his favorite picnic meal—Zweigle’s white hots, and taken a nap. He was ready; he knew the Lord, and went quickly from a massive cerebral hemorrhage. At his memorial service, both of my sons, three of my brother’s sons, and my sister’s son in law testified of his faith and influence in their lives. Nathan spoke to the statement that was made today. “On Father’s Day, he went from the presence of his family into the presence of his Heavenly Father. What’s not to love about that?”

It’s been eight years, and the longer he’s been gone, the more I think of him. He wasn’t perfect, by any means, but he was a man of integrity, steady faithfulness, and loyalty. Allow me to tell one story that encapsulates his heart and mind.

Ours was a busy family, but not with the things that occupy so many families I know. My dad was not much of a sports enthusiast, so my brother and I never played varsity anything. I was involved in the music program of my high school, but that was about it. Dad loved to fish, so in the summertime, Thursday nights dad would get my brother and me out of bed, load us in the car, drive to the golf course, and collect nightcrawlers for Saturday morning’s fishing expedition. Both of these happened like clockwork, as did spending Friday evenings at my mother’s parents, and Saturday evening at my dad’s folks. I can still picture my grandfather sitting on the porch listening to the ball game on the radio while leaning through the door to watch Lawrence Welk on television. 

Other than these things, we were involved in the church. Sunday mornings, Sunday evening services, Monday night men’s work night, Wednesday night prayer meetings, and the occasional missionary conference that filled entire weekday evenings. In short, other than Friday and Saturdays, we weren’t home much as a family. Until “the night.”

Dad came home one evening, sat us all down and announced that he had resigned from all the church offices he held except for the trustees. “It’s taking too much time from my family,” he declared. And just like that, I understood priorities. 

Dad wasn’t outspoken about anything. He didn’t speak much about his faith unless asked about it (which happened more frequently than I knew at the time). But I learned that night about what is really important in life, and tonight, I honor the man who left this world on Father’s Day, but is with me still in my heart.