Continuing my
reflections through the alphabet in memory of my Dad. If someone wrote a series
of essays about why they were thankful for you, what might they say? Writing
these posts has been a sobering experience as I think about the themes in my
life that my successors might find compelling, helpful, or lovely. [You can
follow the entire series beginning here.]
Q -
QUALITY. Some things are worth spending resources on to get the best
quality. Like Dad spent time to visit me in my home, not just for an afternoon,
but also for a stretch of days. Time for quality chats over quality meals made
in one’s own kitchen. Or the advice on buying a good used car Dad gave me when
I gave up driving a mini-van as an empty nester. “You need a car with oomph to
get on the beltline without causing an accident where you live.” He recommended
a Buick Regal with a 3.8L V6 engine. I still love and drive that car.
Dad also knew the difference between quality and the
fleeting value of investing in something solely because it was a popular brand,
name, or idea. Things like designer coffee or clothes were not particularly the
kind of quality that interested him. And so my sister and I laughed that Dad
would have had a fit if he knew how much the new white shirt cost that we
bought for him to wear to his funeral.
The white shirts in his closet were looking a little worn,
yet we knew Mom would want Dad to be buried in a crisp white shirt, one with
cuffs for his set of blue cuff links and matching tie clip. My Dad was a short,
stocky build and finding a shirt his size on a morning’s trip was not an easy
errand. Thankfully, Snyder’s Men’s Shop in Goshen had just such a fine white
shirt with cuffs and they altered it on the spot. Sometimes, on very special
occasions, quality that is born in respect demands a small splurge.
 |
| Sunday morning while visiting us in Muncie. Note the white shirt. |
Thank you, Lord, that
Dad’s life emphasized the right kind of quality; the quality of his planning,
living, and thinking left his heirs a rich legacy of more than things, but
attitudes about things that really matter the most in life.
R – READ. A look
around my parent’s home in recent years was telling. There were books,
newspapers, magazines in any room where one might linger over coffee or in a
comfy chair. My Dad liked to read the Wall Street Journal, and Mom often sent
me a clipping of something he thought I should know about. His reading included
fun things, inspirational writing, biographies, history, devotional books,
travel books, and more. Dad never owned a computer, but was versed in world
affairs and events.
Over the last fifteen years or so, I often gave Dad a book
for his birthday or holidays. He loved the writing of Chuck Swindol and I think
the family bought him nearly all of that pastor’s oeuvre. Dad also gave me
books, including one of his favorite related to worship, Real Worship by Warren Wiersbe. Rev. Wiersbe had been the pastor at
Moody Church when I attended there while a student at Moody Bible Institute in
Chicago. Dad liked listening to Wiersbe’s radio program on the BBN channel. So
there was a very special connection behind that book gift.
When I was at the family home after Dad died, I went through
all the books to retrieve those that I’d given Dad and Mom as gifts. It was a
touching thing to look through them and see bookmarks, notes, as well as
re-read the inscription I always put on the inside cover. I gave most of these
books to my son, who is building a fine library of his own; special volumes to
keep knowing they were from his Grandpa.
I kept a few including the book Heaven by Randy Alcorn. I bought that for Dad 4 or 5 years ago, but
he didn’t read it then. Mom however did. Three times, she told me. (Dad said he
didn’t read it because Mom always had it in her stash). She was getting ready
to head on up I think. After she died, Dad told me he read the book. I’ll read
it this summer and feel close to both of my parents as I think about how they
aren’t just mulling heaven over via a good book, but actually basking in its
glories.
Thank you, Lord, that
the Dad cultivated the habit and pleasure of reading and passed that enjoyment
on to many via his retellings of what he’d been reading, gifts of books, and
the pleasant aura of being surrounded by friendly books in his home.
S -
SHORT. My Grandpa was not quite five feet tall if I remember correctly. My
Dad was taller than that, but still shorter than many other guys were. He used
to tell us stories of when he was in elementary school and was the shortest one
in the class. Picked on by the taller bullies, he’d chuckle to tell us how he
outwitted them on occasion. He may have been short in stature, but he was not
short on wisdom, strength, or perseverance.
A favorite Bible story of his was from I
Samuel 17, the story of David slaying Goliath. I can still hear him reading
this verse from the King James version:
And David spake to the men that stood by him, saying, What shall be done to the man that killeth this Philistine, and taketh away the reproach from Israel? for who is this uncircumcised Philistine, that he should defy the armies of the living God? [Emphasis my Dad’s].
Dad loved this story and this verse, as it reminded him that
some things were worth standing tall for, even if you were a midget
against the giant. No matter. Five smooth stones directed by God could sail
past a host of fears and hesitations and hit the mark with Spirit-directed
force. Perhaps David and Dad are swapping stories now, one short guy to a ruddy
one.
Thank you, Lord, that
Dad knew the measure of a man was his heart and not his height. Thank you that,
by your grace, this short boy from Amish farm country reached heights of
happiness and fulfillment in life that others with far greater advantages only
dream of attaining.
MUSIC LINKS
This series of essays celebrating my Dad's life through the alphabet continues here.
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