In two days my dad turns 93 years old. He has been dealing with dementia for some time
now. Many of his memories have been taken from him, but I am remembering my dad today. I
remember the amazing man he was, and I’d like to share a few things which may encourage you
in your relationship with your own dad. Just a few things that my dad taught me…
I want to say first that most of what Dad taught me, I learned by example. I learned by
watching how he acted, how he reacted, what he said to others, and the way he treated people. He
was not a public preacher, although I heard him preach a good sermon when needed. He did not
regularly stand up and teach the adult class, although he frequently sat and encouraged the young
people. Whenever he had the job of preaching or teaching, he took it very seriously. He labored
over his lessons. He taught me how serious it is to guide people with our example.
Dad taught me to be a “fixer.” He understood how things worked, and he knew how to repair
them when they stopped working. But more important than that was the reason he repaired them.
He cared about the people who used them, who depended on them, who enjoyed them. Whether it
was a broken toy for a little child, or an extensive automobile repair for someone who depended
on that car, dad was thinking about them more than about the thing he fixed. The thing was just a
means to make someone happy.
Dad taught me to think about the needs of others. When I was a young father, and took my
family on a trip, we came home and our car was gone. I looked for it, and finally found it out in
the tractor garage. It had been cleaned and waxed. That was something I had been meaning to do.
My dad knew I did not have time to do it, and could not afford to pay a detailer.
Dad taught me not to brag or seek personal credit. He would fix things behind my back. I
don’t know how many times I would find some item around the farm had been repaired, and Dad
never said anything about it. I’m sure there are many times things were fixed which I never even
realized, because Dad would never say a word. And it made him uncomfortable when I would
discover it and try to thank him. He did not want credit or recognition.
Dad taught me to work hard and finish what I started. I don’t know how many times we
would be mowing grass, or stacking hay, or painting window sills, and I would be tired and ready
to quit. It was Dad who would always say, “Let’s finish this one yet.” Dad taught me to go the
extra mile, to finish the job, to follow through and do it right.
Dad taught me to be honest and to keep my word. When Dad said he was going to do
something, you could mark it down. He would carry little index cards in his shirt pocket with notes
and reminders to himself. I don’t remember Dad ever missing an appointment or forgetting to be
somewhere on time. If he said he was going to take care of something, he did.
Dad taught me to be kind. Looking back over my life, I cannot now recall a single time where
Dad intentionally said or did anything to hurt anyone. There were several times when I thought he
would’ve been more than justified had he done so. I saw him criticized, attacked, slandered. I never
saw him retaliate, or barely even answer back. I think I understand why. My dad did not want to
hurt peoples’ feelings. He had been hurt sometimes himself, and didn’t like how it felt. Dad worked
for the Department of the Army, and throughout his career he was a supervisor of many others. He
could have hurt a number of people had he wanted to. But he did not want to do something to
others that he would not have appreciated himself.
Dad taught me to love the Lord. He encouraged me in my preaching and teaching. Even
today, he still does. He served as an elder in the Lord’s church, and wanted to see the church grow
and thrive. It hurt him to see division or politics being played in the church. He knew that the
church is the bride of Christ, and he wanted to see the church always well represented, looking
good in the eyes of the public. He gave generously, unselfishly to advance the work of the church,
because he loved the One who had died to purchase the church with his own blood. I never heard
my dad use a curse word, smoke a cigarette, or drink a drop of alcohol. He believed these things
would hurt Jesus — and he was teaching me to love the Lord.
