[Faith-talk] Daily Thought for Sunday, June 16, 2013

[Paul]

As this is being written, Happy Father's Day afternoon to you all, at least here in eastern North America.  I hope and pray that, by God's matchless grace and His providential care, that your children and your wives presented you with something that went beyond the mere act of giving Dad a gift on his day, but that it made you fathers feel appreciated for the job you do as being both a father and a husband.  For those of you who don't celebrate Father's Day on this particular day or if your country doesn't even have a Father's Day, please forgive this mere indulgence just this one time, Okay? Thanks.

Anne Kennedy wrote an article some years ago entitled "My Father's Patience," rendered as follows:

I recently completed work on a production of "The Sound of Music," a play wherein the father of seven children is a retired naval officer and runs his household as he would a shipload of unruly recruits.  When cast members discovered that my father was also a naval officer, they conjured images of my brother and me marching down the steps of our various military quarters, sporting matching sailor suits, and shouting our names when prompted by a staccato whistle or angry bark.  I laughed it off but, looking back, I can see how Dad might have been tempted to follow the Captain von Trapp model.

My father grew up in an environment where planning and preparedness were unquestioned.  My grandfather, a former Navy pilot, encouraged his sons to become Eagle Scouts, and both boys subsequently earned ROTC scholarships, joined their father's fraternity, and became officers in the United States Navy.

My father's life is a remarkable testament to the benefits of planning.  I recall cross-country trips when Dad woke everyone before daybreak so we could be "in the stream headed fair" by 6 a.m. and fit in two good hours of driving before breakfast.  At home Dad set all our clocks ahead at intervals.  On Sundays, he shepherded us out of the house before sunup to make the first service at church.  We were early to everything.

Because his job took him out of our lives for long periods, Dad became something of a special-occasion parent who inspired a respectful awe.  He must have been uncomfortable with this distance because, when my brothers were in elementary school and I was only four, Dad announced we would begin a new tradition.  He would take each of us out once a month for a one-on-one date wherever we wanted to go.  These "special times" grew into the foundation of a deeper relationship with our father.

Despite his penchant for planning and agendas, my father developed an incredible amount of patience and enthusiasm for his children's meandering whims.  He was equally accepting of "I just want to bum around the mall and look for skateboard wheels" as he was of "Let's see Honey, I Shrunk the Kids Again!" Whatever we did, Dad followed our lead.  He never filled our times together with probing inquiries or parental advice.  He simply listened.  One night a month, he threw away his planner and we knew he was on our side.

As I entered high school, this fatherly patience only increased.  Dad drove me to school every day on his way to work.  A man quiet by nature, he valued serenity in the morning.  But I had drama to work through, teachers to complain about, and boys to consider.  I also habitually forgot to take inventory of my schoolbooks until we were on the road, and I more than once meekly asked him to return home so I could retrieve "Romeo and Juliet" or my calculus text.  Pulling a U-turn, he would recite the balcony scene as a kind of Three Stooges routine.  When I returned with book in hand, we were ten minutes late, but laughing.  He daily reminded me that I was his priority--getting to work on time was only icing on the cake.

Since I have left home, I have noticed my father's patience in new ways.  When I announced that I would major in creative writing and pursue a career in theater, my dad, the engineer, told me to go for it.  And when I performed in my first college production, a dark, two-and-a-half-hour Macbeth, he took time off, flew from Honolulu to Seattle, and caught two shows, even though I had no lines and spent most of the time lurking through stage fog, covered in black muslin.  Afterwards, he told me I was wonderful, but wondered why we had left out his favorite line:  "Wherefore art thou, Romeo?"

A friend once told me she avoids calling her father because he invariably peppers her with advice, then demands to know what she is doing with her life.  I remember wondering what makes my father so different.  I am certain he worries about me, as most parents do, but he is confident that if I have an issue I will tell him because, as he often reminds me, "I'm in your corner, Sweetheart."

Last week he was in town for a few days and we arranged to meet at 7:30 for breakfast at a local diner.  At 7:35, I awoke with a jolt and frantically called Dad, apologizing and assuring him that I would be there as soon as possible.

"Don't worry, Sweetheart, I can wait.  Just be careful on the roads.  It's cold out there."

I am who I am.  And my father still patiently loves me.

And there you have Anne's article for today.  Hope you enjoyed it.

You know, when I read this article for the first time and I came to the point about her father's patience, I couldn't help thinking of the passage in Galatians 5:22 where it says that one of the fruit of the Spirit is patience.  Just an observation on my part.

And now may the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob just keep us safe, individually and collectively, in these last days in which we live.  Your Christian friend and brother, Paul