The measure of a man I call my Father

Today’s math lesson is about measurement, weights and measures.

The statisticians in the crowd may find the lessons of this man’s life difficult to understand and the lessons taught daily by this man a bit “boring”.

My Father. A man in every sense of the word.

If this happens to be not dramatic enough for your likes, all I can say is I do have pity on you.

A man. A faithful man. A faith-filled man. Heroic in some ways and broken in other ways. Beaten down by a life he was given by God. But a true man in the sense he cared. About his God, how God would see his actions. Most of all, though, his thoughts about his actions and what to do about bettering them in service to his family, coworkers, community.

He never felt the need to “outsmart” another or “outwit” anyone because he was already hands down, cards on the table more intelligent than anyone in the room. Because he practiced what he preached. To a fault.

A man because he had the strength and integrity to ask for forgiveness when he failed at his own hands and the hand of others. No bend. No break.

How many of us can say we do the same thing? Admit our own personal failings. Choose to seek help above and instead of hiding behind our brains, good looks, sense of humor, faithfulness in practice—which btw my father held all in spades.

Or the flip side of hiding behind our fears, limps, anxious thoughts and memories—which btw my father had in spades, too.

He shared the good without a blink or a wink. No bend. No break. Practiced the qualities with a child like quality of, Hey, “Come join me”! You will learn my way! And he did not mean my way or the highway. He shared the bad quietly, inside, so as to not “share” that side of him in the spirit of harm to another. At times he faltered. But he never once

Compromised.

No compromises. When it came to faith and practice of that faith until the day he answered God’s call to come home. Oh how I miss his wisdom, his antics, his presence.

Yes. His presence. The intangible. He entered a room and was a presence. He was not a towering individual. One just wanted to be around him.

I credit the strength of his mother and father in raising up such a good person. That way, I got to know him!

If one paid very, very close to the lessons he taught daily, one became privileged indeed. Not just the mistakes and blunders of when and where as there were many. But when the chips were down.

He was there. He was present. He taught me which fights are worth the fight. And which to let go of. He taught me in matters of the heart to never, ever.

Compromise.

I think partially because he had the discernment of the devil. But he used it as a vice to stop the devil. And the devil visits us all often. He could spot a fake or phoney in a second. Millisecond. If he let you into his giant heart, you were in. But you had to earn it.

No freebies.

While we fill our time with “busy-ness” in order to pre-occupy our minds, he taught me to make it count. The seconds, minutes, hours of my day to provide meaning to share. The good and the bad.

He taught me by an unwavering faith in God. His faithful Mother once shared the hopeless and helpless feeling she had when she dropped her son off at the train to go to battle in WWII. I listened while holding my breath. To and of her story of fear. I was just a kid but so surprised that this strong and faithful Grandmother of mine had felt fear.

She dropped her son off, not knowing when or if she would ever see him again. To fight in a war, with guns, grenades and shrapnel. It was more than she could bear. Bear she did. By praying to God.

It was in that moment with her that I learned where my father learned his discernment skills.

And that is when I decided I wanted to be like her. And him. I will live that way. Just a kid. But at a time when I needed and wanted a guiding light. I received not only one, but two! Thank you God. My grandmother gave to me A Word of Life. Her word to a good life. And I believed. In the two of them and their word.

Of well meaning, good practices, no compromises in matters of the heart and most of all to work hard at it. She taught me to

Pray.

Pray. Do not lose heart. Without a heart. We have nothing. Even if and when we do. To know what is the best thing to do.

Take the lead.

Beaten down and broken at the end of his days. My father never wavered in his practice in his medicine of faith. I have a photograph of the him leaning over his lawn mower. Tinkering with it. It was his birthday. A beautiful bright and sunny day. At the time of this moment, he was unable to make it down one more row to mow one more straight line of his beloved lawn. It is heartbreaking.

He so loved to mow his own lawn—straight lines, bagging the grass, the satisfaction of a job well done. He loved his house and this lawn he built to raise his family. Built from the ground up. Raised through chaos and good and who knows what else.

Only God knows.

As I stare at this picture, my heart becomes immensely heavy. He looks so frail. I go back in time and remember when this photo was taken.

The day before we lost a hero.

It was his birthday. God would call him home the next day. Unselfish until his last days. I think he bargained with God to give him one more day as he knew all of his children would visit him one way or another through modern or in person means.

His way of saying goodbye. Preparing us for his departure. Yet. Allowing us the space to be with him one last time.

My heart still aches when I think of our conversation. I wished him a “Happy Birthday”. How’s it going, Dad. He told me how he lived to keep the faith. He told me to keep on praying. He knew his absence would be difficult and yet he was thinking of his children. Knowing full well where he was headed the next day.

Because he was a real man. A man of faith. Of caring to ask forgiveness for his faults. Never to run or hide from them. Face fears. No compromises. No bend. No break. He taught me well. A man, sometimes broken, but with a strong heart and endless, mindful intelligence. Endless mindful wisdom to share at the ready. Just ask Him through him.

He is and always will be a giant with a giant heart in my book.