I have been thinking about my dad a lot over the last few days. I don't usually spend a lot of time dwelling on it, but sometimes I wish he was here to talk to. Fathers bring unique perspective and passion to the business of living, and sometimes I wish I could tap his wisdom and feel his hug one more time. This has been one of those weeks.
When I was little, my parents were the janitors at our church. Among my jobs every Saturday was to dust the pews and the window sills. My mother was ever vigilant, making sure I did the job right, and I imagine I ran my hand across each one of those surfaces a thousand times over the years. The church was a comfortable, familiar place for me, and over the years, I explored every single nook and cranny until I knew the entire place as well as my own home.
My dad had bigger jobs. He climbed ladders and hauled tables and shifted and moved and did, well, you know, dad stuff.
One of the biggest tasks on his list of things that had to be done was oiling the bell every year, so it would ring out crystal clear at the start and end of each service. It was a call to worship, a joyous celebration of our faith, a glorious sending off into the world to spread the good news of God's love for all. But for some reason which I still cannot fathom, oiling the bell had to be done on Christmas Eve. Which, for those who don't live in Minnesota, is the dead of winter, and often very cold.
The bell tower was sheltered but open, and the wind would whip around your wrapped up face. But you could see forever, or at least it seemed that way to a little girl. Everything looked different from on high. It was a new perspective, a change from the usual, ordinary, every day view we had of the world, and perhaps, of life.
It was magic for me, spending that time with my dad. I had things to learn from him that no one else could teach me. He cared about me in the way only a father could, he set standards that were just reachable, he challenged me to be the better version of me, he made me reach a little higher to make him proud of me.
For many years, I thought I was cheated out of some of that important "Dad" knowledge because I was only 12 when he died. But as I have matured, I see things a little differently. Just like seeing the world from the bell tower changed my perspective, I see my dad's impact on me a little differently, too.
I am, always, my father's daughter. And 12 years of life lessons have stuck with me, perhaps more strongly for having had such a short time to learn them. I have held on to the memories of time with him willfully, because it is all I have. He was fun, he was strong, he was loving, he was honest, he was very hard working, and he was filled with practical know how, a surprising amount of which he did manage to pass along to me in our short time together.
He was also a little quirky, and did things his own way, even if it didn't make much sense to anyone else, another trait I think he may have passed along to me, if my family is to be believed. Even though he isn't here to watch and experience my life with me, I hope he would be proud of the person I am, because he is a big part of that.
In losing him, I was unwillingly educated in ways I would rather not have been. But because of the hard experience, today I see myself as a survivor. I am devoted to those I love, I am honest and hard working, I understand our time here is limited so we need to get it right as best we can, and most importantly, I know that I have an impact on the people in my life, no matter how long or short I am with them.
Each year, as we approach Father's Day, it is a painful reminder to me of what I have lost. But in losing, I also found something within myself that I think would make my dad proud.
If I could give some advice to all the dads out there, it would be this. Make the most of the time you have. You are more important to your children than you realize. They are yours forever, your legacy which will likely outlive you. Guard it, and them, with integrity, honesty, and love, and you will leave the world a little bit better than you found it.
All in all, I'd rather have an hour to bend my dad's ear and get a hug this morning. But a great dad is a life long influence, even when the time is short. Tears on earth mean there is joy in heaven. I think the celebration must be a fun one, with my dad in the middle of it all.
