{"id":86,"date":"2011-10-25T20:30:51","date_gmt":"2011-10-25T20:30:51","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/jolene-test.com.bishopcompsol.com\/?p=86"},"modified":"2011-10-25T20:30:51","modified_gmt":"2011-10-25T20:30:51","slug":"what-my-dad-taught-me-recycled","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/jolenephilo.com\/staging\/what-my-dad-taught-me-recycled\/","title":{"rendered":"What My Dad Taught Me – Recycled"},"content":{"rendered":"

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This past weekend was a walk down memory lane for me and three girl friends. We spent some of our time together catching up on decades of life since we graduated from high school in 19__. But mostly, we remembered the four years we were best friends, from the first day of ninth grade to the day we got our diplomas. Our parents figured largely in those memories, and since returning home, I\u2019ve been thinking about and grateful for what we learned from our parents. So what better recycled column for today than one from October of 2007 about what my father taught me.<\/p>\n

What Dad Taught Me – Recycled<\/strong><\/p>\n

On Monday, I went to a funeral for a man from our church. His children paid tribute to their dad during the service. He\u2019d been a wonderful father, who took them hunting and fishing. He coached Little League, encouraging and teaching every child on the team. They mentioned that throughout their adult lives, when they reunited with childhood friends, their friends said hello and in the next breath, \u201cHow\u2019s your dad?\u201d<\/p>\n

Maybe I shouldn\u2019t confess this, but their memories saddened me. They reminded me of all my father couldn\u2019t do with us. Don\u2019t get me wrong. Dad was a vibrant man who loved children. He would have been a great Little League coach. And though he wasn\u2019t a hunter or fisherman, he would have led our 4-H club. He would have taught us to raise, show and judge cattle because that was what he loved.<\/p>\n

But he couldn\u2019t do any of that because multiple sclerosis put him in a wheelchair when he was thirty, my sister was six, I was three and my brother was a baby. So I was sad at Monday\u2019s\u00a0 funeral, not only for the family of the man who had died but also for what our family lost to Dad\u2019s illness.<\/p>\n

For the last few days, God has comforted me with truth. Over and over I\u2019ve pictured Dad in his wheelchair while he lived at home or in his bed at the nursing home. And in every picture, his wide face is serious, even sad. Until one of his children or grandkids comes into his presence. Then his face breaks into a big grin that shows his square, white teeth and his green eyes light with delight.<\/p>\n

And that is what Dad taught me: a father\u2019s delight in the presence of his children. His delight didn\u2019t come from what we could do for him. He was delighted because we were his children. We had taken time to be with him.<\/p>\n

So now I\u2019m thinking about God the Father. When I enter His presence, does His face light up? After all, I\u2019m His child too.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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