I met my father when I was
eighteen years old. Well, not really,
but that’s when I clearly remember him.
All my other memories of him are rather murky. He was with my brother and I at my sister’s
funeral. He came home from work early to
check on me when I nearly severed my finger in a house fan. He took my brothers and I to see a Rodan
movie. And, of course, I remember him
saying good-bye to us all in our little apartment on Pacific Avenue. Shadows, really. Not real memories. Not until I was out of high school, and he
sought me out to apologize for vanishing from my life for ten important,
formative years, did I have the opportunity to form real memories. But even they were sporadic and
short-lived. I had college to attend,
jobs to perform, ministries to do, and a wife to meet. He had plans, as well. Our paths crossed occasionally, but not such
that either of us could get to know the other.
Then, he was gone, a victim to a stroke.
Today my wife told me she was
glad I was the father of her children. I
am too. But I stand amazed that I had
any shot at all at being a father. You
know what I mean. Any fool can father
dozens of children, and many have, but to be a father requires much more than
animal instincts and opportunities. A
man needs to have some reference point, some model to imitate, or at least to learn
from. My learning came from television,
movies, and what I could observe in other families. Unfortunately, for my kids, I had to learn on
the job.
My father-in-law provided a very
clear example, for which I am grateful.
As a result of his impact on his daughter, she was able to guide me
through some difficult learning experiences as well. I am thankful for James Dobson, as his books
offered some very constructive and practical advice when I needed it the
most. Most of all, I am thankful for
churches full of devoted fathers who set examples that I could watch, albeit as
a spectator at an arena. I took in those
moments when they had to respond to children who were interrupting a
conversation, or running when they should have been walking, or yelling when
they should have been whispering. I
watched from a few pews back as they not only controlled, but taught their
children during worship services. I
couldn’t help but notice that many of them brought their older kids with them
when there was a work day at the church, giving them meaningful jobs to perform
alongside their dads. I doubt any of
them had any idea they were mentoring me, but I was watching closely.
The greatest influence on my
life as a father, however, came from the Word of God. Those who have never read the Bible, or who
have only read it as a source of academic knowledge, have missed out on the most
profound teachings and exhibitions of what a father ought to be. This is where I began to learn about
teachable moments, forgiveness, and unconditional love. It was in this book I learned about the
sacrifices a father must make, and the accompanying joys of doing so. This is how I learned about disciplining as
an act of love, in order to build up a child.
God provided himself as my role model.
My wife and children can easily
fill you in on all the mistakes I made as a father. In my mind, there is no end to the list. But in recent years I have come to realize an
amazing truth. Children who love their
father are anxious to understand and forgive.
I could, and I have in the past, work myself into a depressed state
thinking about all the things I should have done differently. But I choose a different point of view these
days. I see two wonderful people who
have grown into terrific spouses and parents, who love the Lord and serve
him. I guess I didn’t do too badly. And I thank my heavenly father for that.
