Yesterday on the radio station K-Love they were talking about a survey revealing the number of Dads who felt they were not appreciated. Given the media climate that portrays most Dads as idiots, I can see why many would feel that way. The hosts were asking for people to call in and share the things they appreciated the most about their fathers. And I quickly realized for me it wouldn't be a matter of thinking of something...it would be a matter of deciding which one ranked the highest on my long list.
The first thing that came to mind was breakfast. Once Mom started teaching again, Dad got up early every morning to cook breakfast for the whole family so Mom would have time to get ready. Once we hit our teen years we girls were not always the most appreciative of the country breakfasts, but his early rising and making sure our physical needs were met are one of the very first things that popped into my mind.
The second thing was his servanthood. From my middle school years on, my mother has struggled with "flare-ups". At the time we didn't know she had lupus, we just knew when the inflammation hit her body was hot from a distance and she could barely bend her back. Dad, never once complaining, would do what housework he could so she wouldn't worry about it. The only time I ever remember him yelling at Mom was during one of those flare-ups. I was so shocked I went into the hallway to see what was going on. Mom's flare-up was so bad that time she was unable to bend at all, and she wanted the bed made up, so she managed to get on her knees and was attempting to walk on her knees around the bed to make it up. She didn't have to bend that way. Dad had told her to leave it that he would get it after he cleaned up the kitchen and took us to school. He came back to get his shoes and saw her. To say he was an unhappy was an understatement. And Mom being Mom, didn't understand at all why he was so upset. That memory still makes me both laugh and cry.
But his servanthood didn't end at home. When older widows in the church, and we had quite a few, would call because they needed a lightbulb changed, he would go do it. Being in a small town that was quickly dying, most of them had grown children that had moved on to larger towns or cities for jobs. Dad never saw such jobs as beneath him, but simply saw it as ministering to his flock. I'll never forget overhearing a pastor from a neighboring town ridiculing him for all the housework he did. I was aghast. Mom needed help. Dad loved her, and so he did it. In my mind it was that simple. I never thought much of that pastor after overhearing that conversation.
Dad was patient. He taught 3 of the 4 of us how to drive. Enough said.
Dad provided. After he became a pastor, and funds were tight or simply not there (the year the coal mines shut down thanks to the unions and five families in our church were without income), he would sometimes return to his job at the pharmacy one or two nights a week to help ends meet. He repaired our cars and the parsonage, and would plant gardens when he could to help reduce the food bill. When the older people in the church realized we were not opposed to eating home grown food, they would bring fresh vegetables from the garden to the house, or would bring an outfit by for one of us girls if the local department store was having a "buy one get one" sale. They didn't have much financially themselves, but they provided what they could with what little they had. And what was lacking, my Dad and God always found a way to provide. And he took the command "owe no man anything" seriously. There were times he could only pay $3-5 a month on a medical bill, but he would faithfully pay what he could every month until it was paid off.
And those are just the memories that come flooding in at the first few thoughts.
I hope he has never felt unappreciated by us. We're proud to be "Jerry's kids". :)
The first thing that came to mind was breakfast. Once Mom started teaching again, Dad got up early every morning to cook breakfast for the whole family so Mom would have time to get ready. Once we hit our teen years we girls were not always the most appreciative of the country breakfasts, but his early rising and making sure our physical needs were met are one of the very first things that popped into my mind.
The second thing was his servanthood. From my middle school years on, my mother has struggled with "flare-ups". At the time we didn't know she had lupus, we just knew when the inflammation hit her body was hot from a distance and she could barely bend her back. Dad, never once complaining, would do what housework he could so she wouldn't worry about it. The only time I ever remember him yelling at Mom was during one of those flare-ups. I was so shocked I went into the hallway to see what was going on. Mom's flare-up was so bad that time she was unable to bend at all, and she wanted the bed made up, so she managed to get on her knees and was attempting to walk on her knees around the bed to make it up. She didn't have to bend that way. Dad had told her to leave it that he would get it after he cleaned up the kitchen and took us to school. He came back to get his shoes and saw her. To say he was an unhappy was an understatement. And Mom being Mom, didn't understand at all why he was so upset. That memory still makes me both laugh and cry.
But his servanthood didn't end at home. When older widows in the church, and we had quite a few, would call because they needed a lightbulb changed, he would go do it. Being in a small town that was quickly dying, most of them had grown children that had moved on to larger towns or cities for jobs. Dad never saw such jobs as beneath him, but simply saw it as ministering to his flock. I'll never forget overhearing a pastor from a neighboring town ridiculing him for all the housework he did. I was aghast. Mom needed help. Dad loved her, and so he did it. In my mind it was that simple. I never thought much of that pastor after overhearing that conversation.
Dad was patient. He taught 3 of the 4 of us how to drive. Enough said.
Dad provided. After he became a pastor, and funds were tight or simply not there (the year the coal mines shut down thanks to the unions and five families in our church were without income), he would sometimes return to his job at the pharmacy one or two nights a week to help ends meet. He repaired our cars and the parsonage, and would plant gardens when he could to help reduce the food bill. When the older people in the church realized we were not opposed to eating home grown food, they would bring fresh vegetables from the garden to the house, or would bring an outfit by for one of us girls if the local department store was having a "buy one get one" sale. They didn't have much financially themselves, but they provided what they could with what little they had. And what was lacking, my Dad and God always found a way to provide. And he took the command "owe no man anything" seriously. There were times he could only pay $3-5 a month on a medical bill, but he would faithfully pay what he could every month until it was paid off.
And those are just the memories that come flooding in at the first few thoughts.
I hope he has never felt unappreciated by us. We're proud to be "Jerry's kids". :)
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