Ode to Dad

Right from the very start, God had a special plan. It would be a good while before I would really come to appreciate and comprehend the part a person could play in
that plan.

From the moment you heard his voice, his warm smile captured my heart and his memories reside their providing joy right up until this very moment. I couldn’t say whether he was handsome by the world’s standard but his face was the most pleasant and carried more character than any face i knew. I used to tease him and tell him he should be photographed. He would smile and say “Naw, I don’t think so.” I remember sitting in from of him as a little girl studying his face, counting creases, and rubbing curious hands over whiskers I would say, “Daddy. did you know your face feels like my hairbrush.” He would laugh and sheepishly admit that it probably did. His agreement with my analogy made me feel pretty smart for my 5 year old self.

From the very start, he had the most comfortable lap I knew. It was always the right size and could be refolded, rearranged to accommodate my form whether sleeping or awake, at church services, baseball games, Dr’s offices or on our very own front porch. It was in this lap where the storytelling began. Colorful accounts where he made the bible come alive. Moses in the bulrush, Joseph’s coat , Queen Esther, always finishing every story with the promise that God had a plan of adventure for me.  I found his warm voice and the way it could describe the intricate details of the Ark of the Covenant, or Elijah’s altar, and the cross. He always spoke of the cross and his voice would grow tender and unsteady when he spoke of places like Gethsemane and Calvary. I would hang on every word while I enjoyed the musty smell of the big old red family bible from our coffee table, English Leather aftershave and of course, the lap. 

From the very start , I thought he knew everything. One day while painting the garage I sat on the floor re-organizing his already organized tool box and riddled him with deep questions of logic.  “Dad, what if the world were made of ice cream?” His reply was that it was not. “But Dad wha, what if it was?”  He told me with conviction, “It would melt.” I pursued and asked, “where would it drip too?” Once again with authority, “South America.” He winked and smiled, leaving me to wonder if it really would happen. 

Later that day when I spilled the tool box, He generously stated that it probably needed the clean out anyway. He always knew what time it really was, what made lightin bugs glow.  He made lifeless toys that Mom referred to as part A and Part B come to life.  It was under his patient hands that everything grew in the garden. One time, he and I placed peach pits under upside down mason jars and started our very own orchard. He told me the signs and seasons to plant. I marveled, wondering how a person could get that smart.

From the very start, he had a generous heart, always sharing his seat, letting me lick the drip off his ice cream cone, surrendering his coat to keep me warm, risking his “good ink pen” so I could draw and learn to sit still.

From the very start, I knew leaving him would be a hard task. When I first left home, I called often. He was always glad to hear from me, he said, had sound advice, a sympathetic ear , and encouraging words reminding me God always had a plan for me and everything would work out..

When my children came along, he captured their hearts with his warm smile, soft voice, big lap and vast knowledge. My daughter would say “Pap, can I fix your hair? He would reply “why sure you can ” and to her delight he reached into his back pocket and produced a little black comb that would produce her squeal of joy. Such a sacrifice for a fastidious man who even ironed his blue jeans!  Both of the kids knew he would suggest pizza for dinner when they stayed over, “just because he’s in the mood.” They trusted his navigational skills behind the wheel, because his outings no matter the route, because it will always end in ice cream.

From the very start he was and remains a reflection and example of God fathering mr.  He made me believe that God smiles warm and big and celebrates when I make choices that are right. He convinced me that God had a lap I could crawl up into where I could learn more than he could ever teach me me and that the safety and comfortable slumber I could experience would surpass anything he could attempt to offer me.  He taught me God’s heart of love and vast knowledge knew no limits and that his expeditions, no matter the route wouldn’t necessarily end in ice cream but that there would be an unsurpassable sweetness at the destination. Because Dad instilled the faith in me that God always has a plan, right from the very start.

I wrote this several years ago to my father on Father’s day. He was more than a dad, he would grow into the best friend and mentor of myself, my two children and my husband.  When my children went away to college, they couldn’t go more than a few days without calling him and having a chat.  His move to heaven in 2010 was our loss and Heaven’s gain. We spend Father’s day repeating what we call Ed-isms’ (my dad’s name was Edison) and rejoicing that our family kept him as long as we did. A few days before he died, he told me he would be going. He said, ”Gotta go sooner or later,” I said ”Later!” He told me it would be sooner and that he had plenty on the other side waiting. As usual he was always right about what time it was. He left quietly and peacefully, serenely, like he lived.