My motherly Father

I was in grade 9. That was my hardest year of school. I really struggled with balancing school work and house work....that looks odd to read, but it's true. At any rate I was doing poorly in the subjects I was not as strong in- math and science. I had failed a test, the mark was very low. On top of that, I had to get it signed.

Now, let me be clear on this, in our house school was a priority, but not always at the top of the list. And, increasingly for me the house was becoming my priority. I spent the hour long bus ride in the mornings doing homework. So it's not really surprising that I had failed this test.

I've never been very brave and I clearly remember sitting in my room on my bed trying to work up the nerve to take the test downstairs to my father. I was imagining all sorts of responses, none of them good. Finally, I decided it was time. I called down and asked him to come upstairs for a moment. I led him into his room and sat on the edge of his bed. I unfolded the paper and handed it to him without making eye contact. He looked the test over and then noticed the tears slipping down my face. I confessed to him that I had been afraid to show him the mark, that he would be disappointed in me. At this point he turned to me and said something similar to this -"Angie, I am not disappointed in you. You bring more joy to my life than I could ever tell you. You don't need to worry about this, I love you so much". Then he leaned over and kissed my cheek.

Can you imagine what his loving words did for my little heart? I was full of joy.

Another fond memory I have is from about 4 years ago during summer vacation. It had been the worst one to date. Head wounds, broken trailer brakes, backed up washing machines, pregnancy scare, never ending rain, unending thrush, broken washing machines and lice had riddled the first 2 weeks of our vacation. I stood in Dad's yard at 10 pm on the 3rd night of our visit taking apart our tent trailer. I was fed up and I was moving out. He came out to comfort me, telling me he would pay for us to stay in a hotel, that we could wash our lice infested bedding and clothes at a laundromat. I cried and told him I was so tired. He hugged me and told me things would be okay.

We decided to leave the next day, that we could better deal with some things in our own home. As we were leaving, I jumped out and ran back to my Dad. I hugged him and said "I'm not sure I can get this out without breaking down but I want to say thank-you to you. Thank-you for staying with us, for pushing through life by yourself. For raising us the best way you knew how by yourself. For leading me to a life in Christ. For loving us. I don't know how you did it." We both stood in the driveway crying and holding one another. I don't think I will ever understand what he must have endured as a single parent- nor do I want to.

I don't think Dad really understands how much he is admired and loved. That he guided us the best way he knew how, even when he felt like giving up. I know he feels like he has failed us in some ways but that's not even close to the truth. I was raised by a passionate man, who loved his children, who worked hard to provide for us. He was hurt by the blows of this life and stumbled occasionally but always landed at the feet of his Savior. He taught my brothers and I what faith looks like. He was real and honest.

He still is.

I love seeing my children with him, getting to know him as grandfather. Seeing how the time and wisdom have mellowed him.

My life was (and is) full of laughter, love, praise, and trials by fire. I am who I am today because of the love of my most wonderful father, given to me by my wise Heavenly Father.

He is such a gift and I don't think he even knows it.