In my lifetime, I have seen dads come and go. Some who would be classed as knights in shining armor and those who would not. I’ve seen dads who dote on their children, and dads who completely abandon their little ones. Then there are those who live in the twilight zone, not recognizing they are dads, ducking in and out of the He-man cave for a sneak peek to make sure mom is doing it right but totally hands off and responsibility free. There are all types of dads. I know it is difficult in this society when the media makes dad look like a half-wit bungling guy who caters to the wisdom of his all-knowing children. Dads must make a consistent effort to be tuned to everything – artificial intelligence, job, economy, sports, weather, latest stock market update – let alone your children.
I was blessed to be raised in a time when Father Knows Best was in vogue. We didn’t have television until I was in high school, and then it was at the neighbors. I graduated from high school before Dad ever sat down to watch a television show in his own home; therefore, Dad didn’t get advice from the current television sitcom. He learned parenting skills from his father, who learned from his father, back to Adam. Fatherhood skills were passed from one generation to the next by example. My forbearers espoused the Judeo-Christian principles of our Founding Fathers and were successful – not perfect, but successful.
When Dad was a little guy, his mother taught him a poem that became a theme of his life:
It matters not what you do
Make a nation or a shoe
He who does the honest thing
In God’s pure sight is ranked a king.
Integrity was woven into every fiber of Dad’s life. The questions asked of every decision were: Is it right? Is it true? Is it kind? Once someone wronged him in a business deal. Instead of taking the man to court, where he would have won hands down, my father said, “Someday I will stand before my maker and will answer to Him about what I did. I don’t want this on my conscience.” He backed away from the decision to prosecute and went about life as if nothing happened. He picked up the pieces and moved on as he always did when faced with explosive situations that might turn out bad for someone else.
Family and personal prayer happened every day in my home when I was growing up. We all knelt in the living room and said a family prayer. One person was the voice, and the rest listened and verbally said, “Amen,” when the prayer ended. I don’t remember when I said my first prayer, but I am sure it was almost before I could talk. Those prayers engendered feelings of love and unity. I always knew my family was my anchor and support no matter what I was facing, and prayer was the first answer to every problem. Dad made sure prayer happened, and Mother made sure it would happen if he was not there.
I don’t remember family scripture study or reading the scriptures together as a family, but I knew my father was a scholar of the scriptures. He read them daily and could quote them at random. When he passed away, we found a weathered old Bible in his water truck that he drove every day. We didn’t find the latest magazine from the rack – nothing but that old well-read Bible. If anyone had a scripture question, they went to him. He helped them find the answer. Many Sunday afternoons were spent discussing the scriptures around the dinner table. I learned to love the stories of the Bible because Dad made it a priority.
Dad was a seven-day Christian, not just a Sunday-go-to-meetings kind of guy. We went to church every Sunday, and there was never a question on where he stood on other days. If someone needed help, he was there. Dad stopped by the side of the road to change a flat tire, or he’d climb under the hood of a stranger’s car. I remember phone calls or knocks on the door in the middle of the night asking if he could give a stranger a ride into town.
His charity extended to his family as well. He worked at a paper mill where he changed shifts, often working the night shift. He would sit and help me with my homework and fall asleep midsentence. Back then, I thought it was funny, but now I understand the sacrifice he was making to help me when he needed sleep so badly. There were other sacrifices I took for granted. He always made sure my car was running properly, and if I didn’t have a car, he made sure I had a ride, even at 3 a.m. With six kids, there were many sacrifices.
Dad wasn’t a complainer, though he had many things to complain about. He had been through debilitating accidents, a stroke and two major heart attacks. After an operation on his skull, which had been damaged by a fall, he was put in a rehabilitation facility that was less than professional. He would ring the bell, and no one would come to his aid. The food was horrible, and the physical training was way beyond the capacity of a 90-year-old. The family could tell he was suffering and not being cared for, but he didn’t complain. He just said, “I want to go home.” I took matters into my own hands and made the arrangements, and we took him home. Even through all of that, he was kind to his caretakers and expressed appreciation for what they had done for him.
Though Dad wasn’t wealthy in terms of money, he was always willing to give the widow’s mite. He always paid 10% of his income to build the Kingdom of God. Over the years, he used his own hard-earned wages to send five young people on Christian missions, paying their full expenses for the entire time, and partially supported 12 others. Then he generously gave time and money to build a church that had burned. He never made his charity common knowledge. I only know because I am his daughter, and I saw the sacrifice first hand. His philanthropy shaped my attitude about finances. I have never needed the trappings of the world. I am content with what I have and am willing to share. Those lessons were not taught by a lecture or some elaborate reward system. He simply lived what he expected me to do.
Growing up with a dad like that, it is hard for me to watch the decline of fatherhood in our nation. I see young people living together in wait-and-see relationships, expecting to jump and run if things don’t work out. I see young women being left alone to raise children in fatherless homes. Little faces look up for a hero to show them the way, and all they see are television heroes that wouldn’t even be welcome in our homes if they knocked at our door. I see fathers with faces glued to cell phones while their toddlers clamber around their knees for attention. I see dads who spend more time with the sports page than they do helping children with homework.
Yet there are some rare dads who wrestle, hug and teach their children the Hokey Pokey dance. Dads who share happy memories and sing songs with their families. They take them to church and make sure they learn from example the beautiful Christian principles taught in the scriptures. There are fathers who take their families fishing and have special dates with their daughters to teach them how real men are to treat them. I see dads who wash dishes and change diapers to help their wives lighten the burden of her endless days of caring for the children. I see fathers who shoulder the weight of an entire family when mothers have abandoned their sacred responsibly or have become incapacitated. There are some modern knights in shining armor, like my dad, who still wield the sword of the spirit and hold the shield of faith against the storms of the adversary in defense of their families. God bless those fathers. They are the wealth of the nation.
