The Blessing of a Father

 

This morning, like every morning, I am having some quiet time. I look forward to this beginning each day, drinking my morning iced tea (with no sugar) out of my favorite glass, a Nolan Ryan collector glass. It's just the right size for the morning brew, and it reminds me of someone who, over the years, gave me these wise words.

"Keep these safe, referring to the set of collector glasses; one day, they will be valuable." I'm not a collector of much. I accepted the advice, but I didn't take my father's words to heart. Over the years, he had given me random gifts, like the miniature grand piano that, when opened, was a music box because He knew I wished for a baby grand, and this oddly shaped jewelry box that resembled a free-form puzzle that I came to love because of a great life lesson I learned from it, along with other very individual gifts. My dad had a remarkable way of being generous to others, even beyond his means, which often was both his strength and his downfall.

I have countless memories of those down-and-outers pulling into his gas station in the small town we lived in, with a list of troubles a mile long. After listening, he would fill their tanks, buy them a meal, or get whatever he could for them, even to the point of the shirt off his back. He wasn't showy about it, but he was consistent in doing it. His way of helping others was to meet their needs – physical ones, and this trait went beyond aiding the passersby. He was the same to both his family and extended family.

I was his firstborn. I can recall countless times he came to my rescue, including the mis delivery of my passport to San Antonio. I was leaving on a student trip overseas that week. Without question, he caught a quick flight, picked up the passport, and had it back to me by the next day. Not to mention the tuition he had already paid for this experience and the worry of having his 17-year-old out of the country. There were many times, I am sure, that I took advantage of his soft heart, and many times I failed to be considerate because that is just what teenagers who lack knowledge and experience do, but He always stuck with me.

He was proud of my accomplishments; He endured my painful experiences, such as standing with me as a young widow of only 23, just a few years after walking me down the aisle and giving me away to someone who promised to care for me and did not. He walked out those very dark days with me, and I could count on his phone call every week. He wasn't perfect, but he was always there. He loved his grandkids and was interested in our lives.

Until he was unable to do so and very ill, he was still working, thinking, planning, and expecting better times. That was his mantra for life. Time took a toll on his body. We said a lot, shared a lot, and I tucked away a lifetime of memories in a very short time.

Twenty-one years have passed since we last spoke. I am beyond the age he was when he passed away. My father is in heaven now, and I miss him. At the same time, I am content. The relationship he had later in life with the Lord and the one he pursued all my life with me was comforting. I loved my dad. I still do.

So, as for the glasses, I don't think they are worth much monetarily. One day, I will check, but regardless of their value, I would never give them up. Each morning, as I start my day in those few quiet moments before the cares of the world take over, I sometimes reach for this glass, and I am reminded of him, all that he did for me, and what we shared. So, he was right. "They are valuable." My dad was a blessing from God.

Children obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. Honor your father and mother, which is the first commandment with a promise, so that it may go well with you and that you may enjoy long life on the earth. 

Ephesians 6:1-3

Friends, I realize that not everyone has the experience I was fortunate to have with my father. God promises that he will not leave us fatherless. On the contrary, He promises to be a father to the fatherless, to be there when we do not have someone to watch over, protect or rely upon. That is a promise from Psalm 68:5.

"God is a father to the fatherless."