A Letter of Tribute to Dad

 

                                                                     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

What Are You Thankful for?

Here we are, already into November, the time of year when most Americans pause to think about what they have to be thankful for.  Time, nor space, would allow me to share all the things that I am thankful for.  However, I would like to share just a couple.

Carl Harris holding Darell "Bud", 1928

Lucille Harris holding Darell, 1928

First, I am thankful for parents who taught me that a disciplined life would provide more happiness than going along with the crowd.  One of my father's strong teachings was "Any old dead fish can swim downstream, but it takes a live fish to swim upstream".  My parents believed and lived lives that proved they practiced what they taught the child.  Someone has said, "I would rather see a sermon lived than hear one preached".  I would agree with that.

In addition, I am thankful for the Word of God and how it has blessed my life with security, peace, and assurance.  There are many passages and verses in the Bible which have changed my life.  However, let me give only two verses that have been precious over the years to me.  I remind myself of them almost every night in my prayer time before going to bed.  Psalm 31:14-15a in the Amplified Bible reads, "But as for me, I trust [confidently] in You and Your greatness, O Lord; I said, 'You are my God'.  My times are in Your hands".

I have found this passage stills my heart in whatever circumstance I am faced with in life.  I believe God will do the same for you.  If you have doubt that it will, pray for Him to help your unbelief.  

--Darell 

A Halloween Tick-Tack

Over the years, Halloween customs have changed a bit. Children still dress up in costumes and go door-to-door in the neighborhood, saying "trick or treat"; however, the only thing that seems to be expected is the "treat". You don't hear much about the "trick" option. It didn't use to be like this. People of all ages used to do all kinds of tricks on one another. Some tricks were more complicated with preparation and extensive planning while others were quite simple to pull off.

One popular trick that took little preparation was called a "tick-tack" that people would "hang" outside the window of someone's house. To make a tick-tack, all that is needed is an empty wooden thread spool, a nail or small rod, and a few feet of string. First, cut several notches around the edges on each end of the spool, and place the nail through the spool's center hole. Then, wrap the string tightly around the cylinder part of the spool. To hang the tick-tack, sneak up after dark to the window of a neighbor, hold the tick-tack by the nail, placing the notched edges of the spool against the glass, and pull the string quickly. As the spool spins on the nail, it makes a loud noise inside the house, startling whoever is inside! Run before they find out who did it!

If you don't have a wooden thread spool, you can find one like this at a craft store like Michael's.  

This is my rendition of a tick-tack following Dad's instructions.  I used an X-acto knife to carve out the notches, but I'm sure Dad would have used a jackknife.  I "hung" my tick-tack on the inside of one of my windows and got good results!

One Halloween, my brother Bob and his friend Hugh Pearsall were on their way to a drilling rig up Lawton Hollow. They happened to have a tick-tack in a pocket, so when they passed Ronald Pierce's house (now Jim Reynolds' home) and saw him sleeping in his chair near the window, they decided to use it. They crept up on the porch and hung it on the window while the tired man slept after a long day's work. As soon as the tick-tack rumbled and rattled on the window, Mr. Pierce jerked awake and came alive! It was so much fun that Bob and Hugh decided to hang the tick-tack on a couple more windows of the same home before going on their way.

Within a few minutes, they had done their third window and were heading to the road. Hugh asked Bob, "What if Mr. Pierce is outside?" Bob replied, "Just keep walking as if nothing happened." At that moment, Hugh saw Mr. Pierce standing by a tree in the yard. He gasped, "There he is!" and took off on a run up behind the schoolhouse with Mr. Pierce on his heels. As Hugh jumped across the little creek, he slipped and fell in. Mr. Pierce picked him up and dunked him several times in the cold mountain stream before letting him go.

In the meanwhile, Bob had decided there was no reason for him to stick around so he made a fast retreat down School Street and on home to Maple Street. It was only the next morning on the school bus that he learned of the ill fate of his friend.

Whenever I recall this incident, a Bible verse comes to mind. Proverbs 18:24 says, "There is a friend that sticks closer than a brother." This is referring to the Lord as a friend to us as Believers. Jesus Christ is the One that sticks closer than a brother. When all others fail us (even brothers and sisters), Jesus does not. He is totally reliable and faithful. 

Since we are to become more Christ-like in our daily walk with Him, shouldn't we also be a faithful friend to others?

-- Darell (and Jan)