Honor Your Father

One would expect that a blog should be written to honor Valentine’s Day today, but a different choice is made by this daughter of the King. I want to honor someone that my King tells me to honor…Dear Old Dad, and so this is written as the command was given to “Honor your father”.

My dad turned 91 this weekend and still lives on the farm with my mother, his wife of 66 years. That commitment right there should explain why he is a person to honor whether he was my dad or not. It is becoming more and more rare for this many years to be prized by any couple, but I thank God that he and my mother are together supporting each other and continuing to grow old together. It’s beautiful how their love and honor of each other has increased over time, despite the frustrations and challenges that any marriage has. To watch this unfold has been quite eye opening to me as well as a blessing; it’s something I should strive to imitate in my marriage. What a priceless heritage for me and for my brothers and sisters.

I’m not sure what to say about my dad…so much could be said…so I am just going to communicate what is fresh on my mind and heart at this time. The first thing that comes to mind is that all of his children are still on speaking terms with him, something that might not be present in the lives of every father. In other words, he has peace with them, and this peace is healthy for him and all of us. This says a lot about him and his children. We all still want to see Dad; we want to call him; we want to make sure that he is getting along well as he becomes more and more in need of support in all aspects. One would suspect that we have these desires because he instilled in us what was good, the ability to see and understand that he should be honored because he was our father, and he took care of us. He wasn’t perfect, but he taught us and trained us in such a way that we are still coming back for more. I’m not saying that we liked it or that he did it perfectly, but he tried, and he was faithful to this responsibility. You could say that just as he was a diligent farmer about his harvest, he was a diligent father about his house. There was never a question that Dad commanded his family.

Yes, as we grew up, there was never a question about who the head of our home was. This provided a lot of clarity and safety. It is much easier to command a family when the authority is not ambiguous or slack in it. It is much easier to be commanded when you know who is in charge. Because he was the father of ten children this was probably more important than if there were fewer of us; however, it matters greatly even for only one child; it mattered greatly for each one of us.

Certain history has been shared that Dad was the hardest on the oldest three. His energy level in his younger years and with fewer number of children at that time afforded him the luxury of not being too outnumbered. By the time I came along, the ninth of ten, no question existed as to who was in charge. He did not have to command so much when I arrived because his fatherhood was well established with no need for the younger ones to wonder. Although he was hardest on the older three, it is interesting that they seem to be the ones that see him the most and the ones whom he listens to the most now. They do live close by and have this option, but their care and attention to him now are such an honor.

One of my brothers goes to the farm every day to make sure Mom and Dad are OK. Yes, he is the farmer in the family, but the patience and time as well as the respect and constant attention he gives to the needs of Dad are exemplary. Dad could not be on the farm now if it wasn’t for this daily support, this support that shows love and honor, this support that Dad readily receives from him. This was years in the making as he and Dad spent many hours on the farm together which probably included lots of conflict and reconciliation through the years, but the devotion the rest of us see is powerful and necessary. Huge trust has been established. You can’t buy such a thing. The cost comes in the devotion. It is a two-way process, give and take, yes and no, conflict and resolution over many years with willingness to do what is right.

My oldest brother and oldest sister visit often, also, supporting the best they can, and again, Dad receives them readily. The rest of the seven sisters do what they can; four of them must drive several hours to keep the connection strong and always bring laughter and vigor; another who lives closer always brings tenderness; I do what I can.

Other history is shared also…one of the sisters was six years old when the Lord took her. She died at home. What an awful morning that must have been to hear the distress in Mom’s voice to call Dad to come upstairs. How completely overwhelming it must have been for the older ones to view the scene of Dad carrying the lass downstairs with his face distorted by tears and anguish. How completely overwhelming it must have been to continue to look to God and not ask why…I’m sure he did; how completely overwhelming it must have been to press on and raise his children in the faith of the Lord. As he said to one of my sisters when we were all working through our faith, “If we are going to be wrong, we are going to be 100% wrong.” In other words, persevere even if you don’t understand or like it. The sorrow over my sister truly shows that Dad did not have an easy life and had to endure something that is hard to put into words, one of the most difficult sorrows anyone can experience, but he continued to command his family and do what fathers are required, provide for his family.

Yes, persevere. One of my sisters has shared that she learned so much from Dad when she spent time in the fields and cattle lot with him. He told her that nothing is ever so bad that you have to quit. Just give it time. I think he said things like this due to his waiting on cattle and grain prices as they would ebb and flow; how stressful that must have been with many mouths to feed. Back then, he had less equipment so physical labor was a regular part of his day; what an impact on his health, the physical labor which benefits him now living to the ripe old age of 91; nine decades of memories too numerous to recall.

Dad prized the strengths of his children without bragging about any of us. If anything he kept us in check. If we got too big for ourselves, he did not hesitate to get us back in line. He loved the strong athletic abilities of some, the tremendous smarts of others, the sweet spirit of the tender ones, the musical talent which he didn’t show except when he danced elegantly with my mother. He was at every school event possible rarely missing any of them. This is part of fatherhood – supporting and showing interest in your children, not just commanding them. His support continued into our adulthood. I remember the joy and excitement he had the summer my two brothers got married. What a delight! He was thrilled for all of the weddings and gave his blessing to the men who married his daughters, and he always valued his two daughters-in-law. He even showed his imperfection by cheating in the weight loss contest we had to get looking good for one of the weddings. He looked good anyway; so did Mom. I remember the joy when the first grandchildren were announced, then the grandchildren graduating from high school, then the grandchildren getting married, then the great-grandchildren arriving. What a full life the man had and all the while he continued to have relationships with all of us to this day. Lots of repair; lots of growth; lots of emotions; all worth it to be a part of his life and enjoy the blessings we have because of him.

Although he did not say much and used short, curt comments to convey his instruction or opinion (comments like “hustle”, “think”, “keep your foot off the break”, “shut the gate”), he had other ways of communicating. I remember his “talking in code” on the telephone as he needed to get his saddle back because he had “something to put under it.” He was thrilled to get this back for the daughter who always wanted a horse. He had a good time waiting to see this great surprise unfold even teasing her on the day of delivery that he “didn’t know anyone who would want a horse.” He had so much joy in giving and still does. He has given more to his children than most people on a small farmer’s income could dream. Not just money, but a college education, our first car. He never required us to get a job. He just wanted help on the farm when it was necessary…pulling corn out of the beans, spraying weeds with his bean buggy. The girls weren’t required to help like the boys, but if he called, we were there, and if the gate did not get shut, well, we heard about it, not with his short quick statements but with more flowery language. I smile as I think of this now because he doesn’t use the flowery language as much anymore; as he has weakened so has this. Currently, most of his words are filled with gratitude and appreciation for his family along with comments on the weather and interest in the crops.

I remember how he honored his own father and the memory of his mother. He never said a bad word about them; no complaint; just history spoken, sometimes with tears but so often with laughter. I knew how he loved and honored his own dad; I saw his tears at his dad’s funeral. How he “cried” the estate sale of my grandpa just two months later showed his resilience. You move on and do what’s right; that was Dad’s example.  

Yes, Dad commanded his house, and we knew it, but now he doesn’t command it like he once did. Now, he is supported by those of us who learned to honor the one who helped us get to the level of commanding our own house. He helped us get to the level of being able to help him. He helped us get to the level of not commanding him in return but honoring and respecting him because we have a lot to honor and respect. The roots here are far deeper than any farmer has in his harvest. The roots are part of the heritage that his diligence has preserved. The roots are unseen, but how strong they are.

I marvel at how we change. I have seen Dad go from the strong, feisty commanding type to the calm, peaceful accepting type. I have seen him go from commanding everything to relying on others to command his life with honor and loving support. I have seen him go from a lot of tenacious struggle and frustration to acceptance and kindness. I marvel that this commanding type of man could be so tender to write these words on a little note to my mother when he was overseas, “I love you; you are in my prayers.” My mother has carried this note in her billfold for years. Wouldn’t you?

Yes, Dear Old Dad. He wasn’t perfect as none of us are, but he did so much so well. I’m trying to do well in my life and it’s not easy. As he gets weaker and weaker, so do I. I get weaker about trying to do it perfectly, and by myself, and becoming more dependent and in need of support from those who love me and want to honor me, my own children. I don’t know how to best honor him. My brother does it well. It’s such a reflection of what God wants from us. It’s one of the ten commands God gives, “Honor your father and your mother.” God did not say to do this just when we are young and under the roof of their house. He said to do this, never a starting or stopping point on this command; it’s for the whole lifespan.

Ultimately, it’s about God. Honoring God. If we want to honor God we must honor our parents, but how much easier it is to honor someone who tried to do it right, 100%, all the way even if he was wrong. He tried. His efforts at commanding his house helped pave the way for his children to be teachable and to put his birthday higher on their list than Valentine’s Day. And this is what it is all about; letting God command us and yet keeping love in the picture.

Thanks Dad. I cherish what God has given to me from your 91 years, a good father. It has helped me to follow the command, “Honor your father,” and so in this I honor God also.  That’s what it is all about.  Honoring God.