IN HONOR OF FATHER’s DAY, THIS WEEK’s GUEST POST IS BY MY WIFE , JUDY:
REMEMBERING MY DADDY
Thirteen years ago my Dad passed away. Below are the notes I wrote about him as soon as I got word. I want to share it with you. Too often we only remember the “big deal” things and forget the “little things”. I hope my memories remind you of many in your life with your Dad!
Happy Father’s Day, dads!
At 9:00 a.m. on May 19, 2000 my Daddy went home to Heaven. He had been looking forward to that day for some time. As I visited with him the last time on May the 12, 2000, I couldn’t help but think, Daddy, you would be so much happier if you were with the Lord.
We had planned a big 90th birthday celebration for May 2nd, which was his 90th birthday. (We had to cancel the party due to his illness) He was excited and looking forward to that day. He often said I just want to live to see the year 2000. I just want to live to be 90. Well he did. And he had a great life. He had many friends who loved him dearly. So did his family. So did I.
My Mother gave birth to me but it was my Daddy’s strong arms that held me and vowed to protect me.
My Mother tried to teach me how to be a lady, but it was my Daddy who taught me to roll down the grassy hill and made me a swing to hang in the tree, play cowboys and Indians, make mud pies in the sand, and play hide and seek in the dark.
My Mother taught me how to cook, but it was my Daddy who showed me how to find mushrooms hidden in the woods and pick blackberries in the brush.
My Mother taught me how to clean and cook a fresh hen, but it was my Daddy who showed me how to catch and kill it. And then my Mother would fry it the old fashioned way in lard and how my Daddy loved fried chicken.
My Daddy loved to eat at Cracker Barrel – or anyplace for that matter. He loved potluck dinners, family meals, picnics and Thanksgiving gatherings of the family. I think that is why I love those things so much too.
My Mother showed me how to love animals, but it was my Daddy who took me to get my first puppy and we named him Brownie.
At night my Mother would get me ready for bed, but it was my Daddy who read the Bible stories and knelt beside the bed and taught me how to pray.
When I was sick, my Mother would give me medicine, but it was my Daddy who told me stories about Br’er Rabbit and how not to be afraid.
On Sunday’s after church, my Mother was busy finishing up the Sunday dinner, but it was my Daddy’s lap I would crawl up onto and listen as he read me Dagwood on the funnies page.
When I was three and became ill, my Mother worried, but it was my Daddy who carried me into the hospital for tests, who stood beside the bed, who said no to an unnecessary surgery and encouraged me when I had to wear an eye patch to correct a lazy eye.
In the lazy hazy days of summer it was my Daddy who showed me how to find a four leaf clover in the big green lawn, and at night look for the big dipper in the big black star lit sky.
It was my Daddy who would take a canning jar my Mother wasn’t using and make me a bug jar to catch lightening bugs.
My Mother would help me pick out my clothes to wear, but it was my Daddy who taught me how to tie my shoes.
At Christmas time my Mother would decorate and cook, but it was my Daddy who would steal away at night or early in the mornings to the workbench and fashion a beautiful doll cradle, a cabinet for my dishes and a high chair for my dolls.
My Mother taught me how to make chocolate walnut fudge, but my Daddy showed me how to gather and crack the walnuts.
My Mother showed me how to make strawberry jam, but my Daddy showed me how to find the juiciest and best berries in the strawberry patch.
My Mother helped teach me to can and freeze vegetables, but it was my Daddy who taught me to plant peas, sow carrots, dig for potatoes and appreciate gardening.
It was my Daddy who was the example of leadership at church and prayed for me to become a Christian.
My Mother would wash and press my favorite Cinderella dress, but it was my Daddy who comforted me when I ripped it sliding down the big slide.
When I was four years old and mashed the end of my thumb in the car, it was my Daddy who carried me into the doctor’s office.
My Mother loved the flowers and yard, but it was my Daddy who taught me how to grow and care for the roses, and love flowers.
My Mother would bake my birthday cake, but it was my Daddy who would start singing Happy Birthday and then tell me to “Make a Wish!”
It was my Daddy who taught me to ride a bicycle and fly a kite.
It was my Daddy who picked me up at school after our senior play practice every night for weeks as no one lived near me that was in the play.
My Mother would pick out the new wallpaper and paint, but it was my Daddy who taught me how to strip the old paper, sand the rough wood and paper and paint and care for the brushes and tools.
My Mother would sit beside me on the piano bench to help me practice, but it was my Daddy who drove me to and from lessons an hour away each week.
It was my Daddy who led the congregational singing when I played at my first service.
It was my Daddy who was the guinea pig soloist for my first accompanying.
And it was my Daddy who taught me how to wade in a cool creek, and learn the names of the trees in the woods.
It was my Daddy’s love for people that made it easy to talk to him. listen to his many stories, jokes and riddles. He was full of riddles.
It was my Daddy who held back the tears when I went off to college. Knowing full well I would never return as his little girl any more.
It was my Daddy who walked me down the isle to meet the other man in my life.
As my Mother watched from Heaven, my first call after our grandchildren were born was to my Daddy.
It was my Daddy’s first grandson, Rusty, whom he laid hands on at an ordination service for the ministry.
It was my Daddy’s love for our annual Easter Pageant that motivated him to capture people in his room to view the video of his other grandson, Phil, who portrayed one of the disciples. The 2000 Pageant year was the first one he missed.
It was my Daddy’s love for the church and God’s people that moved him to write a check for a large sum of money to our capitol giving campaign.
It was my Daddy’s love for Bible teaching that made him get up at 5:00 a.m. on Saturday mornings to be ready to go to the 6:30 men’s Bible Study when he visited in Louisville.
It was my Daddy’s love for people at Southeast that made him want to be a part of our celebration in announcing the 32 million dollar total giving for the new building.
It was my Daddy’s love for God’s people and Southeast that made him work everything out to come be with us at our first worship service in our new building on Blankenbaker Parkway. That was his last worship service with us, December 27, 1998. He was never able to make the weekend trip again.
My Daddy loved people, loved the Church, loved the Lord and loved his family.
He loved Flat Rock River Lodge where he resided for over 5 years.
He loved my Mother. He was an example of a Father’s love. He loved me.
It was my Daddy who showed me how to love people, how to love my husband, my children, daughter-in-laws and grandchildren.
I truly feel it was my Daddy’s love for me that helps make me a good wife and mother. Every time I would call my Daddy or he would call me we would close with I love you.
On Friday, May 12, 2000, I said for the last time face to face to my Daddy, “Daddy, I love you”, and kissed his cheek. And he kissed me back. I will never forget the brush of his lips on my cheek. I know without a doubt that on Friday morning May 19, 2000, that the angels brushed their lips on my Daddy’s cheek welcoming him to the big banquet room in Heaven. He will have a huge celebration there. He is celebrating his 90th birthday and the year 2000.
Praise God for a Daddy who loved me and showed me Jesus! Someday soon, I will feast with him around that big banquet table in Heaven. And I’m sure that we’ll eat even better chicken, than our good ole’ fried chicken here on earth.