WHO I AM ... WHAT I DO ...

Who I Am … It just seems right kids should think their Dad is the best.  I know, of course, many cannot share my enthusiasm about their fathers, and this reflection certainly isn’t meant to bring about sadness but I need to honor one who did it well!  At an early age, I knew Dad was greatly respected and he loved people. Any room he entered was immediately warmed with his smile and kind spirit.  One of the earliest things I learned was how he was always the same -- at church, in public, at home.  He was singly devoted to my Mom; his love for her was obvious in the way he treated her.  Dad loved Deb, Sherri, Joy, and I completely.  His love for God led him to a life of faithful service, and his life of compassion for others impacted countless numbers of people.  I learned so much about life from Dad, and as an adult I’m ever amazed at how those lessons play out even today.  I learned from him there is something positive and rare in every person God created -- find it, focus on it, encourage it.  When I struggled with "my place" in this world, Dad showed me in the Bible how God rarely used idle people to do His work – get busy, he said, serve where you are with what you have, and do it joyfully "as unto the Lord."  When I struggled to make decisions, he taught me to be patient and wait on God; his famous line [which I have repeated often to others], "if you don't know what to do, do nothing till you know."  He taught me the meaning of commitment by not letting me quit basketball my senior year of high school even though I became disheartened -- easy or tough, honor your commitments.  He explained because of sin there will always be injustice in the world, but don't give up on making the world a better place -- make a difference by being a part of the solution.  I learned to be a person of integrity as I watched Dad correct cashiers when they undercharged him for a product -- "your character is who you are," he’d say.  An avid ball player himself, he showed me how to be a team player, growing relationships with people so you can minister to and reach them for Christ.  I watched him work hard as a pastor doing otherwise menial tasks, modeling a servant’s heart in Kingdom work.  Because Dad refused to put a lock on his study door where he spent a lot of his time, I learned the importance of being available to people, especially to my husband and my children when they want to talk about serious things and just about nothing really.  Those late-night conversations where we replayed basketball and softball games taught me how to relate to others and deepen relationships through common interests and shared experiences.  Dad is 81 years young today and has changed very little: he still loves Mom and us girls, he’s still greatly respected and dearly loved by many, and he always has time for people.  That same kind spirit and warm smile changes rooms, and it’s the simple things still make him smile – cornbread and milk with sliced onion, and Gunsmoke reruns.   Dad, I know I am who I am because of Christ but you must take just a little credit for helping me get there.  From that you’ll never retire!  Like you’ve told us many times yourself -- the best is yet to be!  Press on, Dad – Happy Birthday!

 

What I Do … It seems an appropriate time to reflect on this “writing” thing I do. Quite frequently my mind goes back home to a small basement room -- we called it the "study.”  It was there in that often cold damp place, Dad routinely read, sang, laughed, counseled, and picked up the phone extension [when someone yelled down-the-stairs, “Dad, it’s for you”].  It's also where he wrote things -- put words from his heart onto paper. My upstairs bedroom was right above the study, and I felt a particular calm from the clicking of the typewriter.  As a child, I didn't know what Dad was typing; what I did know was Dad loved God, so whatever he was doing sure was important to God and Dad loved doing it. Dad never locked the door; he never told us to stay out, and the study was never “off limits.” No matter how busy he was or what deadline he was trying to meet, he always had the time for my sisters and me. Of course, there came a day when I read his words and learned to appreciate the importance of his work. The writer-in-me came to know [not just] the beating of a heart for God but the intense throbbing to write it down.  Honestly, there are times MWB is painstaking and I struggle to feel the call and continue. One thing is certain: writing is in my blood. It keeps me in The Word and helps me focus on who I am in Christ, and to keep His glory ever before me.  With great humility, I know God has given me this gift, this ministry, and a terrific mentor. To God be all glory and many thanks, Dad.  Happy Birthday!