My parents are, at this moment, on a plane to Kona Hawaii. As hard as it may be to believe, it was really remarkable that they agreed to take this trip. You see, my mom has the same aversion for flying that I do. This invitation, however, was too inviting to pass up and, thankfully, she said YES!
I know what it feels like to sit on a plane and feel my throat tighten and my mind reel. So, I feel for my mom right now. While she sits on that plane, I sit at my desk here at home and pray for the Lord’s peace. I have every confidence he will indeed ease her mind and grant her peace. Yet, what really gives me peace is the thought that she's sitting on that airplane with my dad.
For more than 45 years, he has been there to hold her hand and offer a shoulder to lean on.
I didn't always see it that way. An ex-Marine, he had fallen in love with my mom in the mid-’60s shortly after he got out of the service. She was a young divorcee with a small child (me), and he drove a milk truck for a local dairy. Our young family lived in the projects in a tough, blue collar Ohio city. By the time they had been married three years, they had added two sons and Dad had landed a good job in a local factory. They were able to move their family of five to a new house in a neighboring city. Life was good.
Yet, I remember rocky times when I was young. Dad was the epitome of a Marine, hardnosed and unyielding. He worked different shifts, put in long hours at the factory, often drank too much and life in the house was tense. It wasn’t exactly an Ozzie and Harriet upbringing.
My growing-up memories are good ones, however. My mom has always been a steady, encouraging presence in my life, and relationships in the family were solid. Yet, as I entered my teens, I felt a huge distance from my dad. Our lives were on different paths, and he didn't seem interested in my teenage-girl world. It seemed I hardly knew him and he hardly knew me. There were moments of connection, but they were few and far between. No surprise, at 17 I moved out of the house and didn’t look back.
This was a period in my life where I made a lot of bad choices. I began drinking. I looked for love in all the wrong places. At a friend’s invitation, I moved a thousand miles away from my Ohio home. And, by the tender age of 21, I met a married man at work and fell for him. It wasn’t long before he divorced his wife, and we were married. I began the marriage with stars in my eyes, but soon found myself trapped in an abusive relationship with a baby to take care of.
This is where my dad’s story takes an unexpected turn. While I was living out of state, I discovered that Dad, like my mom before him, had “found Jesus.” All I knew at the time was that he had started going to church, stopped drinking, and got baptized. From my perspective, he had become a “bible thumper.” Guess it was okay for him, but it just seemed kinda odd to me.
Dad sent me a bible along with a note telling me that God loved me. And, a couple of months later, he sent a little card that invited me to “get saved.” Although I didn’t understand any of it, I sentimentally tucked those items away as keepsakes.
The pain of my difficult marriage took a toll. I found myself filled with anxiety, and suffered, on more than one occasion, through a panic attack. The lively, optimistic girl I was when I married had become a frightened, overwhelmed young woman.
Late one night, in the midst of my troubled world, I pulled out the bible Dad had sent me and his note. He said God wanted to help me, and that I only needed to reach out to him. That night, I got on my knees and prayed the prayer on that little card.
It didn’t happen overnight, but little-by-little, God began to become real to me. He lifted me out of my despair and his strength became my strength. I found the life and hope that both my mom and dad had found.
Then, my Dad’s big strong arms reached out to me all those miles away. That hardnosed Marine became a tender-hearted father. When I was too debilitated to drive, he drove the thousand-mile trek for me. When I had no where to live, he welcomed me and my little boy to his home. When I was in need and without, he provided.
He has mellowed over the years. He is now “Papa” to six grandchildren who love him. He lives his life to be a blessing, to serve God, and to better the world around him. God only knows how many lives have been transformed because he has shared the good news to those who would listen.
But I must say that one thing, above all else, warms my heart toward my dad... and that’s the love he has for my mom. No one I’ve known on this earth can compare to her. And he has loved and cared for her for nearly 50 years.
And he’s there for her to lean on, at this moment, on that flight some 36,000 feet over the Pacific.
My dad. I thank God for my dad.
This is where my dad’s story takes an unexpected turn. While I was living out of state, I discovered that Dad, like my mom before him, had “found Jesus.” All I knew at the time was that he had started going to church, stopped drinking, and got baptized. From my perspective, he had become a “bible thumper.” Guess it was okay for him, but it just seemed kinda odd to me.
Dad sent me a bible along with a note telling me that God loved me. And, a couple of months later, he sent a little card that invited me to “get saved.” Although I didn’t understand any of it, I sentimentally tucked those items away as keepsakes.
The pain of my difficult marriage took a toll. I found myself filled with anxiety, and suffered, on more than one occasion, through a panic attack. The lively, optimistic girl I was when I married had become a frightened, overwhelmed young woman.
Late one night, in the midst of my troubled world, I pulled out the bible Dad had sent me and his note. He said God wanted to help me, and that I only needed to reach out to him. That night, I got on my knees and prayed the prayer on that little card.
It didn’t happen overnight, but little-by-little, God began to become real to me. He lifted me out of my despair and his strength became my strength. I found the life and hope that both my mom and dad had found.
Then, my Dad’s big strong arms reached out to me all those miles away. That hardnosed Marine became a tender-hearted father. When I was too debilitated to drive, he drove the thousand-mile trek for me. When I had no where to live, he welcomed me and my little boy to his home. When I was in need and without, he provided.
He has mellowed over the years. He is now “Papa” to six grandchildren who love him. He lives his life to be a blessing, to serve God, and to better the world around him. God only knows how many lives have been transformed because he has shared the good news to those who would listen.
But I must say that one thing, above all else, warms my heart toward my dad... and that’s the love he has for my mom. No one I’ve known on this earth can compare to her. And he has loved and cared for her for nearly 50 years.
And he’s there for her to lean on, at this moment, on that flight some 36,000 feet over the Pacific.
My dad. I thank God for my dad.
