I’ll never forget the day we backed out of our one car garage in the brand new Nissan SUV – with my door wide open. It was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. My mom said ‘Everyone in?’ I was daydreaming, I didn’t respond, and we backed out. The shiny white door bent almost 90 degrees in the wrong direction and came to rest with a floppy groan, looking for all the world like the twisted leg of a an accident victim on TV. Then I groaned too. What would my Dad say? My mom drove us down to the hospital in a profound silence so we could all find out together. I’ll never forget him walking out of the building, still wearing his operating garb. He stopped abruptly when he saw the carnage that had been the door, but he didn’t yell at me. He understood me well enough to know he didn’t have to.
And I love him for that.
I’ll never forget Sunday afternoons in Africa. My brother and I were confined to our beds for a two hour ‘noon rest’ while our parents took a much needed siesta. But they never got much sleep… on account of us boys and our noise. I can still see my dad standing in our bedroom doorway, arms crossed, not saying a word -- just looking at us, willing us to be wise and stay silent. I remember peeking at him after pretending to be asleep for what seemed like an eternity. He was looking right at me. And he smiled.
And I love him for that.
I’ll never forget our family road trips. I’d always position myself strategically in the middle back seat, just so I could lean my head forward into the grown up world. That’s when I’d ask my questions. ‘Why don’t animals talk?’ ‘Do animals go to heaven?’ ‘What’s heaven like Dad?’ ‘How do you know?’ And on, and on and on. And he would answer me. I don’t ever remember him brushing me or my questions off, never remember him making a joke out of my curiosity. I remember thoughtful answers, honest answers, heartfelt and incredibly deep answers.
And I love him for that.
I’ll never forget my High School graduation ceremony. My Dad was the keynote speaker. I sat in the back row on stage, dressed in my cap and gown and surrounded by the best friends I’d ever known, and I listened to him speak, hanging on his every word. He told his testimony, the one I’d heard so many times before, but still, it struck me. Both missionary parents, gunned down in Vietnam as he began his Freshman year in College. “You’re the same age now as I was then,” he said, “so I want you to remember this one lesson, even if you forget everything else I say here today. Let this be your anchor as it has been my own, ‘Let God be your Father.’” I’ll never forget that picture of my dad, like Abraham, offering me up to God in obedient surrender.
And I love him for that.
There are just so many memories… thank you Dad. I love you for each one. Happy Father’s Day!
Surrounded By Grace & dad's love,
Josh
That was super sweet! You are a lucky guy Josh!
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