Today is Father’s Day. I’m going to savor this one.
I’ve not written about it, but in recent months my dad was diagnosed with cancer. He went under hospice care earlier this week. And so a journey has begun that we all know will come, but we dread it and do all we can to avoid it.
I have been blessed. My dad is one of the good ones. When I think of the things he has taught me through the years I am overwhelmed.
He taught me how to throw a ball, to dribble a ball, to ride a bike, to tie a hook on a line, and to drive a car.
He taught me how to add two, three and four digit numbers in my head (sounds crazy, but I always know within a dollar how much I owe at the grocery store before it is calculated by the clerk).
My dad, outside of the Lord Jesus, has made a greater impact on my life than anyone else. From the earliest age he challenged me to do my best in school and reminded me constantly that he wanted me to go to college, something he never had the opportunity to do.
He taught me, not just with words, but by the way he has lived. He was faithful to my mom. He loves my sister and me, his five grandchildren, and now the four great-grands.
When, at the age of 17 near the end of my senior year, I made public that I believed God was calling me to be a pastor, his words to me were powerful.
“I would never have chosen this route for you, but I will support you every step of the way.” And he has done just that.
I can’t be with him on Sunday, but I will see him the day before. At this time we are simply enjoying every minute together.
I’m probably going to lose my dad soon. And that hurts. But I believe in heaven, and I believe that I will one day see him there. That gives me hope. I will grieve, but not as those without hope.
There is hope in Jesus Christ. My dad taught me that. I pray that you will find that same hope.