Sunday, May 19, 2019
Dear Dad,
You have always made me proud to
call you “Dad”. As I look back over my
life, I am grateful for all the ways you have blessed me and for all the many
valuable lessons you taught me. I am not
saying that you are perfect, but you have certainly been a father worthy of all
my love and respect, and you will always have both for as long as I live.
As a very young child, I remember
feeling so secure in your presence.
Remember the summer evenings we would walk across the front lawns from
our house to Grandpa and Grandma’s to watch Raw Hide on TV? It felt so safe to ride on your shoulders or
hold your hand as we walked through the scary dark shadows. Any time we three girls had to make the trek
without you, we would fight over who got to carry the flashlight, and then run
as fast as we could before the Boogieman could get us.
In Venango, you played Bull with
us in the front room. As you bellowed
and ran after us on your hands and knees, my heart was filled with terror at
the idea of getting caught. However, you,
in your sensitivity to me being the youngest, allowed me to be your Baby Bull,
keeping me in the middle of the fun along with the rest.
There was a sense of peace and
well-being in the midst of the thunderstorms when we sat on the front porch to watch the
lightning flash and listen to the thunder roar.
It taught me to look for God’s presence in the storm. Today, a good thunderstorm has a calming
affect upon me, reminding me that God is there.
When we went on long trips to
visit family or to take Mom to her check-ups in Rochester, NY, we would pass some
of the time singing songs as a family.
It was always a special treat when we could get you to sing along. Your solo parts on Nothing But The Blood were the best—you sang the questions and we
girls sang the response. Another hymn we
could often talk you into singing was Power
In The Blood. We’d see how many
“powers” we could fit in the chorus. It
didn’t matter that you couldn’t carry a tune.
We were simply delighted that you were belting it out in a joyful noise
with us. Smethport was always our Pepsi
stop on the way to Oswayo. To this day I
prefer Pepsi-Cola to Coca-Cola and believe it is because you always did.
Riding the school bus in the
afternoon as you drove for Cambridge Springs Schools created more lasting
memories for me. I loved sitting next to
you on the heater, singing as the roar of the bus motor drowned out all other
sounds around me. I had my own special
spot on the bus. Years later, as an
adult, I drove a bus for four years in Sugar Grove and felt a connection to you
and those early days shared with you.
While living at Findley Lake, you
taught me how to hunt for nightcrawlers and thread a fishing hook through a
wiggling angleworm. For my tenth
birthday, I asked for a fishing pole and you bought me one. I was so proud of it! I practiced for hours, learning how to cast
the line. I remember catching a 10-inch
bass with it and being so pleased.
At Deckards, you bought us each
our own bicycle on which we spent countless hours riding the back roads and
around the church parking lot. You also
taught me how to drive the riding lawn mower and got me the job of cutting the
church lawn for $5 each week. It felt
good to know my dad trusted me with such a responsibility.
The first year we had spring
revival meetings at Deckards, I won the contest for inviting the most guests
attending each night. The prize was a
Panasonic radio/cassette tape recorder.
It made me so proud to win something worth so much money. Many fun-filled hours were spent with
friends and sisters around the tape recorder.
We recorded all kinds of silly interviews, music off the radio, and our
own singing.
Moving to Sugar Lake parsonage, I
often roamed the woods and along Sugar Creek with our dog Ginger by my side. You taught us how to work in the garden and
build a good bonfire for roasting hot dogs and marshmallows. We rode home from church in the trunk of the
car a few times when we needed to give other people a ride and couldn’t fit us
all in seats. What an adventure it was
to view the world from the open trunk of the car! Often, we would spot deer along the way after
an evening service or meeting. Upon the
hill behind our house, we saw a doe with twin fawns playing in the field once.
What a delightful surprise that was!
After Kay was enrolled at Fort
Wayne Bible College, you took me along on the road trips to take her out and
back. We had lots of conversations about
the Bible, God, His Will for my life, and many other topics. We never took too long stopping for gas or
the restroom, and if we stopped to eat it was via the McDonald’s drive-thru
window. Most of the time we had
sandwiches, fruit and cookies packed by Mom for at least one meal on the
road. When I was old enough you taught
me how to drive the car and gave me lots of driving practice. Even after I wrecked the car, you still
entrusted the driving to me. You weren’t
afraid to let me learn through mistakes.
For me, being a preacher’s kid
was like being part of the First Family in the White House. I felt special and was proud that my father
was in the leadership of so many programs—directing Senior High Camp, organizing
revival meetings and missionary conferences, on the leadership team for Holiday
Happening, and part of the ministerial team working on the Holt Orphanage meat
canning event for the community. I felt
like I had insider privileges when it came to church property, we were always
the first ones there and the last to leave—we ate meals there, slept there,
played there, worked there. It seemed
that anytime the doors were opened, we were there (even for many business
meetings). The guests at the parsonage
table were amazing! They came from all
around the world, shared inspirational stories of God’s work in their lives, and we
got to get a peek into their personal lives when others only knew them from
their public speaking. Our eyes and
hearts were opened to different races, cultures, languages, needs, and miracles
through interacting with visitors at the parsonage. As the preacher’s kid, I had inside
information that other kids didn’t have.
I guess I may have been a little cocky at times around parishioners’
kids.
When it came time for me to go to
college, you and Mom did all you could to help make my dream of attending
Taylor University come true. I still
remember the day you both drove me out and left me there—our first look at the
campus, and I knew no one. It was hard
to say good-bye, but good-byes are always hard for you. I knew once again that you loved me and would
be praying daily for me. After you left,
I found myself at college and unsure of what major studies I should
pursue. You had counseled me to study
Christian Education, saying it would prepare me for life, ministry, and
parenting. Since I was testing my
independence, I didn’t declare any major the first semester. However, I trusted your godly wisdom and took
an introductory CE course, and discovered that it was the field of study for
me. I’ve never regretted that
decision. Thank you for the sound advice
and support. Those four years at Taylor
were filled with wonderful memories and discoveries.
At your encouragement, I signed
up for a summer in Colombia, South America with OMS after my sophomore
year. You had always said everyone
should experience the mission field and that you wished you could someday. It was a life-changing experience for me, and
it led me back to Ecuador years later.
Finances were never an issue, you always said God would provide if it
were His will. You were right. He always did.
At college graduation, you and
Mom were there to celebrate and drive me home.
The job hunt began with you praying with me and advising me through that
process. When the decision was made to
take the job in Indianapolis, you drove me out to settle me in the
mother-in-law apartment the church provided and to search for my first car. We found the used dark green Chrysler Aspen,
and you paid the down payment for me.
Once again, you left me in God’s hands to begin my ministry at
Southminster United Presbyterian church.
Although a bit nervous, I knew that you and Mom would be supporting me
in prayer. It gave me the courage to face
the unknown challenges of my first real job.
The next thing I knew, I was
headed to Ecuador, South America as a missionary with OMS. You and Mom waved me off at the little
Jamestown airport after nine months of living at home with you in Warren and
raising my support throughout the area. It
was scary and exciting at the same time to be headed to places unknown with
people unknown. What sustained me was
knowing that you would be praying for me.
As the plane took off and rose into the air, I remember seeing a rainbow
off the little commuter plane’s wing and feeling a reassurance that the God my
parents had raised me to know and trust was ever-present in my life.
When you saw me the next time, I
was civilly married and we had come home for a church wedding to
celebrate with friends and family. As we
all know, that was a fifteen-year misstep, but you never expressed your
disappointment or criticism of my poor choices to me. You continued to love me, pray for me, and
support me as your daughter. God was
faithful even through the messes. Through the divorce and into another
tumultuous marriage, you have continued to express love and acceptance to
me. I can’t begin to express how much
that means to me. You continue to cheer
me on towards faith and service.
Motherhood became a reality for
me after a lifetime of yearning and desire.
Stepchildren, foster children, and adopted children—you loved them and have
prayed for them all. Thank you, for
including them into the family and passing the legacy of Christ on to them.
One thing I can say with
gratitude and pride, you were a preacher who strived to practice what he
preached. You didn’t always manage that,
of course, because you are human.
However, your sincere efforts were exemplary. Your tithing and sacrificial giving, your
dependency upon God, your compassion for the lost and needy around the world, and
your faithfulness in serving the Lord have impacted my life as well as
countless others. Thank you, Dad! I love you and respect you. I just want to be sure you know that. --Jan
