Missing Dad

I don't really have a Bible verse for you (or me) this morning. I find myself in an unusual place. A place of memory. A place of sorrow and,at the same time, great joy. A place that is always within me but one that I don't visit often enough. A place in my memory.

It began last night after we had finished the Saturday night service. Everyone had gone and I was locking up the building. Walking to my car, I found my thoughts suddenly filled with memories of my dad. I found myself seeing my dad, in my thoughts, at different stages of my life. 

My dad could have been John Wayne's brother.Big, brusk man with a heart hidden under that rough exterior that was bigger than all out doors. From time to time, my dad could clean up right nice and he loved to look "spiffy" as he defined it. But most of my memories of my dad consist of him wearing overalls or coveralls, depending on the weather. Ball caps and brogans topped off his daily ensemble. My dad was blue collar to the core. Worked hard all his life and never expected anything from anyone. He only desired a fair shake to make his way in this world. 

As I left Vineyard and started down Broad Street, I passed by where the Choice restaurant used to be. There was my dad again. Only this time it was not the Choice, but rather the Mexican Chili Parlor. If we ever came to town to do our shopping, and dad happened to come along, we always had to stop by the Chili Parlor for a special treat. Dad would usually get a hot dog and a cup of coffee. There would be a quarter provided by dad so I could play the juke box. Each table had a little box with the titles of songs. Put your money in, make your selection and the music would fill the air and over ride any conversation that might have been going on at the time. There was Ray Charles "Hit the Road Jack" and Ray Price singing "For the Good Times." Henson Cargill and "Skip A Rope"....and of course....Patsy Cline. Dad and I had a crush on Patsy Cline,even though I was a lad, I knew that there must be something special about being out "walking after midnight."

I write these things this morning because I miss him...........my dad.
I miss the sound of his voice....
I miss the smell of Old Spice after shave and Vitalis Hair tonic.
I miss the sound of his footsteps coming on to the back porch and into the kitchen.
I miss seeing him out in the field breaking ground for our garden and the food I knew that would come to fill our tables and our stomachs.
I miss the sound of him trying to play his harmonica....pretty decent but no Charlie McCoy.
I miss being in the woods with him tracking his fox dogs down. Dad taking that fox horn to his lips and playing it with the ease of a priest blowing the shofar at the Temple in Jerusalem.
I miss hearing his laughter as stories were swapped with other men down at the general store that served our community. 
I miss my dad.

I try to visit this place because I don't ever want to loose any of these memories. They are precious to me.
When I look at my grand son or my grand daughter, and see them with their dad, my son, I want to tell them....."Hey you two....drink this up....drink it long and get your fill and remember every part of it.
Time is short and I want to spend it wisely.
I want all my family and my friends to know that I love you.
I want them all to know how much I appreciate them and what they mean to me.
I pray that somehow....
Someway....
I have lived a life that matters.
A life that, maybe some where along the way, caused someone to turn their thoughts and heart toward God and saw Jesus in a way that impacted them.

At some point in this thing we call time, I will depart this ol' earth and find my way to heaven and rewards. I pray that my sons will think back on me with favor. Isn't that the way it's suppose to be? One generation paves the way for another? I pray that I was a good steward with what God placed in my hands.
Thanks for letting me share....

God on you...
mb