My dad liked to visit the hardware store, build fires and barbecue steaks. He labeled things thoroughly with our names, made lots of lists, and didn’t like cats until we got one.
I will always remember the way his face lit up when he laughed, how he was gracious to everyone, and that he gave away many, many smiles.
My dad liked to work with wood, and he made beautiful keepsakes for us that reflected his love of creating.
He gladly labored to raise a crop of tomatoes, or patiently sand a wooden table.
He took no less care with his children.
I don’t ever remember that he spoke an unkind word to me, or lost his temper. I always sensed from him something of what my Heavenly Father’s love is like: kind and patient, faithful and unconditional.
When my pilgrimage on this earth is over, I will eagerly look for my dad in the Celestial City of heaven, where I wonder if he will be talking over project ideas with the King.
Today was my dad’s birthday. He passed away in 1996 when he was 61 years old.
I wrote this back then (to be read by someone else) at his funeral. I resisted the temptation just now to fix and edit it — it was written from the heart. And, it’s all true.
My Word Soup 