This is for both of my parents, although I'll talk a bit more about Daddy since it IS Father's Day, after all.
My dad grew up in rural Mississippi- his mom was a schoolteacher (his own for 2 years, I believe, which he says was not fun) and his father worked on a work crew for an electric company. Ironically, for a good portion of his childhood they didn't have electricity because a neighbor wouldn't allow the power company to place poles or run lines on his property. Dad remembers doing his homework using an oil lamp for light. He was born in what was, at least when I saw it, a primitive shack. His own father didn't even have a high school diploma. His parents were grand people- kind and loving. Grannie died before I finished high school. Papa lived to see me grow up, but was too ill to attend my wedding.
In thinking about Daddy's childhood I think about that line from the song Coal Miner's Daughter : "We were poor but we had love". I know that he worked hard- I know from my own visits to his childhood home that there was a lot of grass to mow and a VERY large garden to work. I spent time on my summer vacations there, picking peas and beans from the garden and shelling them while Grannie watched "Days of Our Lives." It was always an adventure for me, but I'm sure the work drained when it was a constant like it had to be in Daddy's life. It taught him a tremendous work ethic, though. I sometimes think he and my mother both think it's a federal offense to take a sick day at work. They just don't do it- unless they are recovering from surgery or something major like that.
Daddy finished college and became a med tech- and he worked at the same department at the same hospital for well over 40 years before he retired just this past fall. He still works there part time. When I tell people that they are amazed - that just doesn't happen anymore. He met my mom at that job.
Of all the wonderful things my Dad is, the thing I am most grateful for is the accurate picture of my Heavenly Father that he has presented to me. He's a giver, his gentle admonishments always broke my heart more than groundings or spankings ever did- because I knew that what I had done had broken his own. Daddy loves unconditionally. The stories he read my sister and myself at bedtime instilled a lifelong love of fantasy in me- the sight of his writing out his tithe check on Sunday mornings instilled the importance of giving, even if it's my feeble widow's mite. It's a testament to my parents that all their children are involved in a church vocation. Their recent strength and trust in God in the face of my mom's cancer is a life lesson I'll carry for the rest of my days.
I have to say at this point that I'm so thankful for both my parents. Talk about God knowing what we need- He gave me Godly parents who practice what they preach. The sermon hasn't ended even though I'm in my 40s! I regret to say that most of the gray (or white!) hairs on their heads and most of the wrinkles too are the result of me! Grandparenthood hasn't been quite what they expected- my son is still their only grandchild. My divorce 10 years ago was very hard on them, and in the 10 years since that time they have invested so much of themselves in us- I'll never be able to repay them for what they've given us. I'm so grateful.
This is a long, rambling narrative but I feel I've only scratched the surface of what I feel for my parents. As the oldest child I have the tremendous desire to conquer the world and make them proud. Sometimes I feel that it's impossible to accomplish either one- being hard on myself is also apparently a trait that comes from being the oldest. But I've never doubted the love. The safety and security of that knowledge is as present now as it was when I was a child. So, knowing that the debt I owe is huge and one I'll never be able to repay, here's what I CAN do, with all my heart.
Thanks for it all, Mom & Dad. I love you!
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