Dads

Somebody once remarked that isn’t it interesting how on Mother’s Day pastors stand in the pulpits, bless the mothers of their congregation, encourage them from one end of the sermon to the other and – maybe – throw in a word of counsel. On Father’s Day, however, the dads are thanked for what they do and then told how they can do it better. In a way, those differences exemplify how we view our parents differently. When I think of my mom, I do think of all the sacrifices she has made (and still does) for me and how much I want to be like her. When I think of my dad, the first things that come to mind all have to do with fun.

Like casting fishing poles from the front porch. When I was learning to fish, we would sit out on the front porch of my great-grandfather’s little house in Tennessee (where we lived for several months) and practice casting into the yard. I caught a lot of grass.

Or wrestling. Dad taught me the proper way to wrestle: shoulders have to be down on the ground before the count begins and you shout, “One! Two! Three! Four!”; throw up your hands in the air and declare, “I’m the winner!” Come to think of it, wrestling was the one game I could be the winner in (not that it was ever honest when you’re a tiny toddler). Every other game started with one important rule which was recited before the game began: Daddy always wins.

Or swimming. Thanks to Dad, I was jumping off diving boards at the age of two and dog-paddling to the side with him nearby just in case. Unlike other little girls who are scared of water at their first swim class, I wondered why we couldn’t jump off the diving board into twelve feet of water versus standing in two feet of water waving our arms around. And just as much fun was getting thrown into the water by Dad.

Or going on visitation. At our church in Tennessee, the men did visitations to people’s houses once or twice a month. Most of the time these were people who had visited the church, or stopped coming, or a friend had given us their names. The purpose of the visit was to encourage, see how they were doing and, of course, share the gospel. Katey and I got to switch off weeks. I loved it when it was my turn. I like doing visitations, especially if the family had kids. And especially if we went to Hardees for soft-serve chocolate ice cream afterwards.

Dad taught me to ride a bike, paddle a canoe and drive a stick-shift car (that was not all fun). He threw balls around with me, (ever claiming, “You throw just like a girl!”), assisted on my softball teams and even taught me how to throw a football although my hand will never be large enough to get around the thing. He took us swimming, threw napkins with us at dinner, and cheated me out of M&M’s when he thought I was too young to know what he was up to. Dad is fun.

And I’m glad. If the Lord ever gives me children, I hope they can say about their dad that he tickled them, let them ride on his back and tossed balls around. But most important of all, my dad has taught me some of the most valuable lessons of my life. Because of him, today I know how to manage money as a good steward (although I no longer keep my tithe, savings and spending money in three separate piggy banks). He read to me Bible stories from the time I was too young to remember, but to this day I can match those stories in the Bible with the pictures that were in my book. He taught me how important it is to memorize Scripture, serve others, be in a local church and ask God for wisdom.

There isn’t a Proverbs 31 for men, but if there was that would be my dad. And I am very grateful the Lord has given him to me.