I think we should change Father’s Day to Dad’s Day.  How many kids call him ‘Father’ now days?  Even spoken in the possessive it’s generally “My Dad” or just “Dad”.  I remember my Dad that way as well.  He was a father in the best sense of the word, raising eight children of his own and co-raising four nieces and nephews with his mother.  But he was always Dad to his kids.  “I’ll tell Dad on you!” was a real threat when shouted at my twin brother who was generally chasing me with whatever club was handy.  Of course, I wouldn’t mentions what prank preceded the chase.

I inherited my sense of order and love of simple beauty from my mother, but it was Dad who instilled in us a sense of intellectual curiosity.  How did it work?  Why was it made?  Where was God?  And a love of words and poetry as well.  How many kids in this high speed age study Shakespeare and Poetry and Latin in high school?  He could quote poetry and loved to impress his kids with his prowess.  He taught us by example and he and Mother both lived out in front of us promises kept and a commitment to marriage.

Some of the funniest incidents I regale my own children with are remembrances of John and Bobbie’s life-long competition in anything and everything.  Dad was a die-hard Purdue fan and Mother, in her best competitive style, decided she was a Bobby Knight fan.  I seem to remember stopping by one day and learning they had bet their respective Social Security checks on the outcome of a Purdue/Indiana game.  Each knew they other wouldn’t collect, but it didn’t stop the bet.

Mother was a chocoholic.  (THAT I inherited from her, too.)  She loved it so much, she could not stand to have it in the house any longer than it took to eat it all.  Dad knew this from experience, so one of their long-standing competitions was a silent one in which Dad hid his chocolates and Mom tried to find them.  Dad, as all men can and do, was able to eat one chocolate a day.  And he wanted them to last.  So, he hid his Christmas box of Wolf’s candy in the back of the bottom drawer of his file cabinet.  I don’t know how long it took Mom to find them, but, being the fine competitor that she was, she simply lifted off the top layer and started filching from the bottom.

When Dad discovered her deception, he carefully removed the bottom chocolates from their little paper nests, and put a note on top of them which read simply, “Hello there”, and replaced the box.  Mother never said a word, but she knew there had to be a cache of chocolates somewhere.  After looking high and low for them, she finally admitted to Dad she couldn’t find the chocolates.  Chuckling, Dad walked to the fridge, reached to the back shelf and took out a pint jar that looked for all the world like a jar of cooked prunes.  He gave her one and strolled off with jar in hand to find another wife-proof hidey hole.

Perhaps their sense of fun was a legacy as important as their faith and their love of learning.  Life is so much easier to bear if you can laugh at your humanity and find humor in the everyday quirks of life.  Life is never the utopia some writers would have us believe, nor is the life of faith a cake-walk.  From still born twins, to Polio and to all the illnesses that beset a large family, their faith and their sense of humor remained intact.  Tears always come.  That is a given.  But tears can be swallowed up in love for one another and a healthy knowledge of God working all things for good to those who love Him.

Today’s Dads have a harder job than ever.  They are in competition, not with their wives, but with all manner of gadgets and temptations that lure their children from them.  God bless those who are still with us and those who are waiting to see us again.  And God, please bless those young Dads who need your guidance and patience.

 

c. Donna Swanson from With Heart Divided