VOL. III, #070, 6/17/13 THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT FATHERS ONE NEVER FORGETS Sunday was Father’s day. It marked the 38th anniversary of my entrance into fatherhood. My oldest daughter was born in 1975, my son in 1978, my stepdaughter in 1982, and my baby girl in 1991. Today, I am the father of a UCF Knight, A Tulsa Golden Hurricane, A Florida Gator, and a Florida State Seminole in that order. Their mom and I really spread that dough around didn’t we? Lisa is an elementary school teacher, Ben is a stay at home dad and college student, Stephanie is a county planner with a successful photography business, and Jesse James just rolled out of college and into the leasing manager position with the company she worked for while in college. I’m proud of them all. I had to learn, as most fathers do, that being a father is no stroll along the avenue. As a matter of fact, if God is evaluating me as a father, I hope He grades on a curve, because I was, in many ways, a slow learner, and an underachiever in the art of parenting. Fortunately, though, children are resilient, and if time permits, willing to forgive the mistakes and mishaps, and to remember the “once in a great while” when we fathers did something right. My father was promoted to Glory over a decade ago. He was a strong Christian man, with a good heart, and a good soul, who could swing a paddle with the best of ‘um when it came time to apply the board of education to our seat of higher learning. But he had us in church every Sunday, took us to McDonalds or the Tasty-Freeze whenever he had a little to spare, always showed up to watch my ballgames, and I never remember a Christmas without a multitude of presents under the tree. When I was a freshman in college, I took on a factory job that produced floors for mobile homes. It was backbreaking work in a hot building that started at 6:00 a.m. and went until 6:00 p.m. daily. I came home hot, hungry, filthy and tired. I collapsed into bed immediately only to hear that alarm clock go off, just as I was getting comfortable. Two weeks into the job, I went to my father. I said, “Dad, I just can’t do it. The work is too hard, the job is too tough. I don’t want to do it anymore. I want to quit.” My dad never even took his eyes off the television. “Okay, Go ahead and quit,” he said. “That’s it?” I replied. “Sure,” he said. You shouldn’t have to do something you don’t enjoy. Walk away. Just don’t forget to write it in your book.” “My book?” I asked. “Yeah. You know… that book that lists all the things you quit on just because they were too hard, too tough, or too early in the morning, or they required some sort of maturity and discipline on your part. You know … that book!” “Oh,” I whimpered … and walked away. I went to work the next morning with a different attitude. I not only worked there for the rest of the summer, but actually got to enjoy it, and went back part-time on holidays, and for the next two summers. Dad had this subtle way of driving a point home. In some respects, our Heavenly Father uses a similar technique. The Bible says, “For whom the Lord loveth he correcteth; even as a father the son in whom he delighteth.” (Proverbs 3: 12, KJV). My father died at home at about 3:00 in the morning, after an extended illness. We were all there. After he was gone, my mother came over to me, hugged my neck, and whispered, “You were his pride and joy.” For all I know, she said the same thing to my two other brothers, and my sister. Whether she did or didn’t makes no difference, for I know my father was proud of us all. There isn’t a father alive who would not like to re-do some of the things we did as fathers, and try to make them right. But here’s what I know, and other fathers would agree … each of you as our children are, and will always be our pride and our joy. You are our love and our legacy. Be we good or bad, without you, we would never have been fathers. Building the Kingdom and Blessings, Brother Jim.
Posted on: Mon, 17 Jun 2013 00:21:38 +0000
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