Hero

There have been a lot of men over the years whom I have admired, who mentored me in various ways, who counseled me in the ways of work and church and life. These guys come and go, they make mistakes, they show up for a time, then settle away from me. But there is only one guy that I view simply as a hero..my hero. My dad embodies all the things I wish I were.

I'm sure you have sketches in your head about dads and what they ought to look like; perhaps strong, or smart, or clever, or earth-shakers. My dad is some of these, but not all. My best description would be that he is a simple, unassuming, accommodating, funny, caring, active guy. But the basis for my hero worship lies in a few of the things that this world does not value much anymore.

In my years in business and church and neighborhood I have never met a man with more integrity. I have never known him to lie, or cheat , or speak ill of anyone, even when the circumstances would have warranted it. My sister disappeared for over 5 years with her kids, there was a feud between her and her in-laws. The in-laws were in the same town as my dad, attended the same church, knew all the same people. For five years my dad listened to the gossip and the constant questions, and the speculation about all the terrible things his daughter had done. I experienced a small fraction of that inspection and speculation and was annoyed. My dad heard all the rumors, was constantly bombarded with questions and probing speculation, was called names, and he said not one word. Not one word about my sister, not one word about her in-laws, not one word about the situation. His integrity would not allow him to enter the fray. He took all the blows about his only daughter with grace and perseverance. He would not be drawn down to the level of those around him. I learned a great deal about not moving to someone else's level during those five years. He is my hero.

1982 was the year my mother died. I remember in the last days in the pain that had overwhelmed her, Dad bending over her to comfort her in the hospital bed and knowing the end was only moments or days away deeply wishing there was another answer. But the family meeting with my siblings and my dad and the doctors explaining all the choices was a pivotal moment. And I remember my dad cutting them short and telling them that we were not going to make this pain last longer than what God intended. There would be no heroic measures. To see the courage and love there to make the right decision, to let mom go on, to know the end would reshape his world and ours was a lesson I will never forget. Courage in the face of personal loss is true courage. He is my hero.

In the 1970's Dad started one of the first bus ministries in our town. He did all the recruiting, he raised the money, he went to the bus auctions, he canvassed the low income neighborhoods looking for kids who needed a moment in church. He did not make announcements from the pulpit, he did not go to the elders asking their support or help. He just did it. And he did it with great humor and fun. Every Saturday morning we would go to these neighborhoods and ask the parents if they could ride and to look for the big, blue bus. So for years this ministry picked up kids no one else wanted, brought them to church, and fed them along the way, and saved a few from a pointless future. One of the kids went on the manage the ACU bookstore, others went into ministry. At one point the church had several services and a tight timeline. One of the "bus kids" wanted to be baptized, but the leadership decided to do it after the last service because it would disrupt the timing of the assemblies. My dad cornered two of the decision-makers and told them they would not have made the same decision if the child in question had been one of theirs. They apologized the next Sunday..publicly. Dad took no joy in the confrontation and no satisfaction in the apology. He simply stood up for one who could not. He is my hero.

These are only a few of the stories I can recall where he approached life from a perspective of intergrity, compassion, and honesty. The list goes on. He is 91, and can't hear very well, his hip is bothering him on his 10 block walk everyday, and he can't remember all the grandkids names, certainly can't the great-grandkids. But I call 2-3 times a week and he is always the same funny guy.He is always interested in my travels and always makes me feel that the call meant everything to him. He is my hero.

Godspeed, Dad, I love you, You are my HERO.
Don

June Convergence

It just occurred to me that the first half of June is the perfect alignment of three birthdays. My dad was born June 12, my son on June 4, and my eldest grandson on June 10. Each of these guys have created enormous reservoirs of memories, attitudes, and perceptions.

This past weekend we trekked to Amarillo for my eldest grandson's birthday. He was the magical age of ten. It is a world of baseball, soft-air guns, fart jokes, and a need to be recognized. We were able to watch 2 baseball games (of the seven he played, we didn't go out until Sunday), participate in a birthday party where every game my daughter tried to implement became a game of dodge ball, and watch Enchanted with the entire McCall tribe and Eli curled up next to me on the love seat. We split time between the movie and figuring out how to get the scope on his air-soft rifle. Princess and accuracy, this is the stuff of a ten-year-old's world. It is a magical time. Old enough to do most things for himself, no girls yet to unsettle the universe, and a single thin thread back to the little boy world that he is leaving at light speed. He is growing up. There will be some years in the near future where being with Grandaddy will be a drag, but right now he enjoys it and I crave it. So on this June 10, it was a great moment.

On June 4, I was traveling from one spot to another, in and out of airports, juggling appointments and people. But I woke up thinking about my son born 33 years ago. I knew I  wouldn't see him for another week or so, but I wanted him to know that I was thinking about him. So I sent him a text. Short, but heartfelt. He has surpassed what I spent years praying about. So what do you say? I told him I was proud of him. I know that his mother did the heavy lifting. I know he brought a sensitive intelligence into this world with him. I know he was formed and shaped by a God that loves us all. But at some level he is still a product of my influence. We are not alike in personality or looks. He is quiet, an introvert. I am, well..not. He is long and slender. I am, again..not. But we share some traits. He loves his wife and will do anything for her. My bride occupies the center of my world. He works hard and will work in a job he may not be thrilled with, but will grind through it because he cares deeply for those it allows provision. I have spent some long years working in jobs I did not care for because it was more important to provide than to be content. He loves God and asks hard questions and refuses to accept easy answers. I am convinced this is a good thing and it mirrors my life. So in this age of technology I sent a short text that I hoped conveyed all the years of love and pride. This is a new age.

On June 12 I could have sent a text to my dad, but it would still be sitting there unread. It could be because he doesn't know how to answer the text, or it could be because he lost his cell phone again. Either way, it just seemed easier to call him. There is a blog waiting for publication two days from now and I will go more into his life at that moment. But to sum it, there is not another man in THIS world that I would rather be like than him. I will fill that out more later.

80 years of life, from Dad to me to Ben to Eli. I find great comfort in that line up. Godly men, who care for those around them, who will fight when need be, who do not back down. Not a bad heritage. I love each of them in a very special way.

Godspeed to those who find themselves in the wonderful moment of getting to live and love all the generations. It is a moment in time and gone in a flash. But it is a great moment. And I am thankful.
Don