My Dad – The Gentle Giant

He was a big guy – so strong, yet so gentle.  He was my “horsey,” riding on his big shoulders through the house before dumping me into bed.  He was my ice skating partner; my little hand in his big strong hand, holding me up when I started to fall, picking me up when I did.  He loved me, no matter what I did and lovingly disciplined me whenever I needed it.

They say that our view of God, our heavenly Father, is molded by the view and experience we have of our earthly fathers.  And so I know, from the depths of my being, that my heavenly Father is strong, yet gentle, loving me no matter what I do, picking me up when I fall, comforting me when my heart is breaking.  I can crawl up into His lap and whisper in His ear, “Daddy, I love you.”  God has a delightful sense of humor too.  I know, because that’s how I knew my Dad.

Everything was a celebration to my dad.  Every now and then he would randomly announce that we were going on a ride.  He had no particular destination in mind but we would dutifully pile into the car and head down the road.  Then at some random spot he would pull over, turn off the car, pull out a bag of cookies he had stashed under the driver’s seat and announce: “the car just turned 60,000 miles”, or “the car just turned all 3’s”.  It happened one day on a drawbridge at the LA harbor though.  After some pleading, we convinced him to at least get off the bridge before we began the celebration.

One night my dad planned a barbeque to which he invited all our friends and neighbors.  No one (not even my mom) knew the reason for the party but we were all having a great time.  Then at around 8pm he called everyone together, pulled out his Accutron watch, counted down the seconds and announced, “as of … right now … I’ve been married for half of my life!”  THAT was the reason for the party.

On vacation one year near Zion National Park, Dad pulled over near a big rock formation.  He got out of the car and told us to stay inside because he wanted to check something out to make sure this was “the place”.  He disappeared for a few minutes, then came back, joyfully announcing that he had, indeed, found the “Big Rock Candy Mountain”.  We piled out of the car as he led us to the spot where there were candy rocks scattered around.  We gleefully filled our pockets with these sweet, edible rocks and thought that was the BEST … THING … EVER!  (Funny thing: for the rest of the trip, every rock we tried to eat, just wasn’t the same…)

Dad was always doing something in the garage and I was his little helper.  He even built a little tool box all for me, with a little hammer, saw, screw drivers and wrenches so I could “help” him.  We spent hours together in that garage.

One year when my parents asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I replied, “I would like some wood so I can build something”.  My mom asked me, “what do you want to build?”  I replied, “well, when I’m finished, I’ll know.”  I guess from the beginning, God was preparing me to be Bill’s wife.

My sister and I loved to do “make-overs” on Dad.  We would put curlers in his dark, wavy hair, and plaster Mom’s make-up all over his face.  Then we gave him manicures and pedicures, using bright red nail polish.  I’m sure that undoing all of our artistic efforts was a big job, but he did it with good-natured humor (except the lipstick took a while to wear off).  However, one day his office co-workers went to the beach together for a beach party.  As he was getting ready to dive into the waves, he took off his shoes and to his horror, realized he had forgotten to remove the red polish from his toenails.  And so he spent the day, glumly sitting on the beach, with his toes buried deep into the sand.  His co-workers undoubtedly wondered what his problem was.

As gentle as Dad was, he was firm in his convictions and had no problem delivering discipline as needed.  As teenagers our favorite place to go was Bob’s Big Boy drive-in, car-hop service.  We thought it would be fun to take some of the tableware: a couple of glasses and forks.  Dad somehow found out what we had “stolen” and marched us back to Bob’s, apologize to the manager, and give back the stolen booty.  I was mortified.

Dad also didn’t mind administering spankings when necessary.  The last spanking I got was when I was 16.  I had gotten home late from a date with Bill on Saturday night.  I began my normal bedtime routine: shower, washing my hair and setting it in rollers (… yes, I slept on hard, plastic rollers every night).  Dad insisted it was too late to set my hair.  Well, NO ONE was going to tell me I couldn’t set my hair!  And so the argument began, resulting in a well-deserved spanking.  Did I comply?  No way!  I waited until my parents were asleep, got up and set my hair anyway.  Then early in the morning, before they woke up, I took the curlers out.  I wonder if they ever noticed why my hair looked so good at church the next day.

There is a scripture from Philippians 4:11b: “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.”  That epitomizes my dad – content and at peace with life.  That’s how he lived and that’s how he died.  It was on December 21, 2000.  People from their neighborhood were planning to go Christmas caroling and had gathered in the clubhouse to practice.  When they were finished, they looked back and noticed that Dad had fallen asleep.  But when they tried to wake him up, realized that he was gone.  He had slipped into the loving arms of his heavenly father – so peaceful, so content.

Oh, Dad, I’m so grateful to you for the foundation you gave me!  It’s solid and unshakable – able to withstand the many “earthquakes” life has caused.  It has been strong enough to build my life and faith upon.  Thank you for giving me this priceless gift.