It’s funny how we remember things from childhood. It’s sobering when we realize a lot of those memories are childish. It’s downright humbling to rethink those memories from a father’s point of view. It never dawned on me that I was a prodigal son or how much my father really loved me.
My father loved me, but I never truly understood how much he loved me until this year when I found the little pocket-sized New Testament he gave me 50 years ago in 1973. Beneath his signature on the presentation page he wrote three Scripture references. The last one was Luke 15:11-24.
In hindsight my dad was way ahead of me! Duh! We camped and fished in the summers at Pickwick Lake. It was always fun. He taught me how to fly fish, operate a 14-foot Jon boat, and how to clean fish when we were lucky enough to bring a bunch home.
One Friday afternoon, dad came home and we loaded up the car and boat for our overnight trip to Pickwick. I had played a little league baseball game earlier, and Dad had told me to take off my uniform and change clothes. I didn’t. I wanted to show off my Crackers uniform. When we were ready to leave, dad reminded me to change clothes, but I didn’t want to. So, dad said we weren’t going camping and fishing. That was one of the first lessons I remember him teaching me.
Another time our family was eating out and I carelessly overturned my drink. Everybody scrambled to wipe up the ice and drink. My dad told me to be more careful, and I said it wasn’t my fault. Then he explained to me that it certainly was my fault and I should be more careful.
My dad spoiled me my whole life. He loved to shoot skeet and trap, and I would tag along with him on trips to watch him shoot. He was very good! And, he tried to teach me how to shoot, but we soon realized that wasn’t going to happen. Seems like every time he tried to coach me, I’d tear up. A friend of his stepped in to show me how to lead the targets and hit skeet.
When I was 16 dad bought a used Chrysler Valiant for me. I worked cutting grass at the Country Club with a couple of other guys and was glad to have my own transportation. Few teens had their own cars in those days. I drove the fire out of that car and wrecked it after a few months, killing my best friend. It was the worst day of my life and still haunts me today. Dad didn’t get onto me like I feared he would.
Daddy died 40 years ago before I realized how much he loved me. When the prodigal son returned home his father taught him one more lesson. “But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck and kissed him.” Thanks dad!
My dad modeled our heavenly Father as well as he could, and I’m grateful for him. I’m not perfect in any way. But, I hope our sons have learned a little about love and compassion from me too.
Daniel L. Gardner is a columnist who lives in Starkville, MS. You may contact him at PJandMe2@gmail.com.
3 comments:
Poignant and moving prose.
Thanks. A lot of wisdom in there.
You're the Prodigal Gadfly.
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