Dad's Eulogy
How I know I had a good Dad:
I will start out by referencing Jeremiah 29:11. A life verse for many people. “For I know the plans I have for you says the Lord: plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.”
This came to me in recent times as I watched my Dad decline in health. The meaning landed on me a little differently this time. It occurred to me that that must’ve been what was in Dad’s heart the day I was born. And the day my brothers were born, too, of course. Like this: For I know the plans I have for you little baby, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to teach you and protect you….plans to give you hope and a future...maybe more like this: plans to imprint your little mind with the notion that you are going to college.
What a blessing to have a Dad that took his job as a Dad seriously. Of course he loved us and I knew he did. That didn’t mean he gave us whatever we wanted...although some might say I was spoiled being the baby AND the only girl. We weren’t going to get away with anything. We were expected to tell the truth. There were consequences for lying ...see, there was this paddle. One time Roger got me in trouble for lighting a candle downstairs and I forgot about it, went off and left it burning. He could have blown it out, no harm no foul. But he wanted me to get in trouble. So, Dad called me in for a discussion. Roger was like a prosecutor pleading a case…”she could’ve burned the house down!, she shouldn’t be playing with matches!” At first I think I denied it (sealing my fate), and with all the evidence being presented(Rogers eye witness testimony)...let the paddling commence. In the last seconds I blurted out what happened to be the truth…”I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” I really thought there was going to be a harsh whippin so when dad picked up the paddle I peed my pants, but I don’t think he really wanted to spank me after I apologized so he barely made contact. That’s a righteous judge for you. I think I got the softer version of Dad than the one the boys had. Nonetheless, we all had to do what we were told, we were expected to follow through on commitments….even if it was hard, even if we didn’t want to.
For example, I joined the track team as a Sophomore in high school for some strange reason. And when you don’t pick an event (hurdles, relay, dash) they will stick you in the 2-mile race, because no one really wants to do that one. THat’s the long distance run. Dad showed up for my first track meet, I came in third. I was kinda proud of that because I thought I would keel over about half way through. Honestly, I hated it. Track practice was exhausting, and I came in dead last every other meet. Like, I would be the only one left on the track for an entire lap...holding up the rest of the meet. Embarrassing. Come to find out, not everybody that started the 2 mile finished. Half the runners quit before getting their eight laps around. I had no idea, I was concentrating on keeping oxygen going to my extremities. I say all that to say this...my Dad showed up for the first track meet, and after that I wasn’t sure if he was there or not, but I didn’t want him to see me quit if he was there. Then that became something that was in me by the end of the season...I’m not stopping because I know I have to follow through with what I started.
This is getting ready to take an unexpected turn. This work ethic that I was taught kept me working and working on a terrible relationship. Twelve years and two kids later...I had to quit. I had to admit my failure, pack it up, and flee really. My Dad did not like that. Now, he didn’t condemn me, or disown me, as a matter of fact me and the boys moved in with mom and dad for a little while, reprising his role as my protector and provider. My adult reality was gut-wrenching. They tried to tell me, they tried to teach me, but there I was in the consequences of my rebellion bringing two little innocent bystanders. I was a mess. I couldn’t eat,I lost 30lbs, looked terrible. I had two part-time jobs, pre-school teacher and store clerk, then I added a third job teaching one or two nights a week to the mix. I look back at that time and identify it as the darkest time of my life. I am thankful I grew up in a home where I did not see my parents drink or smoke or use any kind of drugs. And, after all, that was one of the reasons I left my marriage. I knew I did not want to add to my pain. There wasn’t anything or anyone on God’s green earth that was helping me, though. Staying busy was burning me out.
Another part of the parental plan was about to kick in...church. Sounds simple, but the truth is mom and dad dragged us to church, you know, they made us go. I didn’t want to go to church, I didn’t want to go to school, I didn’t want to take piano lessons….some things they just make you do.
But, just like sticking with track built a work ethic in me, going to church taught me many things, too. I think one of the messages of the church that got into my soul was that God is really the one in charge. The Creator, the alpha and omega, beginning and the end. And , the other thing...Jesus loves me...and is my Redeemer. That part about Jesus was starting to make sense. I was in a broken situation that needed to be redeemed.
A friend invited me to a church she was attending in Illinois, I didn’t mind the 45 minute drive, it made me feel better that the people I met there didn’t really know me or my situation and everything there was like a fresh start. Friendships were made, trust was built, and for some reason these people at this church didn’t think my marriage was a lost cause. They thought nothing was too hard for the Lord. And so, like it wasn’t even really my idea, they started to pray for my marriage to be restored and the assistant pastor there went after George like a shepherd would go after a lost sheep. I am not making this up! Romans 8:28 “And we know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”
The restoration of my marriage is really a miracle. Only God knows the level of boiling hatred I had in my heart. Believe me, this is the condensed version of that story. It was a rollercoaster ride. I left in 2001, divorced 2002 and we remarried 2006. My Dad was always in my corner...and always in George’s corner.( That actually frustrated me) He was supportive whichever way it was gonna go...divorce or reconciliation. I can appreciate that now, as I got a chance to live that out with Dad in his final days...I had to let him know that I was there to support him while he was hanging on, and I had to let him know I was ok with him passing on. Knowing that it is God that numbers our days is where I find the peace in that. (Psalm 139)
I will close with these thoughts.
It’s good to know that the One who created my inmost being, the one who knows my thoughts, the One who ordained all my days before they came to be...is also the One who has the plans.
Plans to prosper us and not to harm us, plans to give us a hope and a future. And I can just ask Him to lead me in the way everlasting.
I think my Dad really understood those two concepts I gleaned from church: God is ultimately in charge and everybody needs a Redeemer.
He tried to align his plans for us with God’s plans for us, and THAT is how I know I had a good Dad.
I think my Dad really understood those two concepts I gleaned from church: God is ultimately in charge and everybody needs a Redeemer.
He tried to align his plans for us with God’s plans for us, and THAT is how I know I had a good Dad.
