The Men In My Life

My previous post was dedicated to my girls.  Even as I wrote that one, I knew that the next one would be for my Dad - mainly. So much so that the title I thought of initially was: "The man in my life."  But, truth be told, I'd like to reserve that designation for my husband.  So, this one's for the "men" in my life (quotation marks explained later).

It is at this juncture that one stops, lowers one's shoulders (not realizing before that they were so tense), tilts one's head to the right and looks up at the ceiling - all in an effort to conceive where to begin to write about Daddy.  Well, maybe I could start here:

I HAVE THE BEST FATHER EVER!!!

As far back as I can remember - and my long-term memory is excellent (just occasionally selective) - Daddy has been a man of principle, integrity, wit, charm and charisma, possessing the heart of a Christ-like servant.  To me, his entire life has been a simple, yet extraordinary mix of God, family, church leadership and work.  And, in that order, too!  He knows his priorities and he hardly ever gets them confused.  I find that admirable.  He has four daughters and one wife and the only time he places them before the Lord is in prayer.  Speaking of prayer, I heard him pray out loud for us at one of our family devotions last year.  We'd had an opportunity to be together by Latz Art.  I had to smile when he said stteo: "Father, remember the children."  Even now as I write this, I'm chuckling.  Guess it's true what they say.  No matter how old you are, you're still a child for them!


A FATHER AT PLAY
Daddy now has a grand-daughter (aka KiKi) and son-in-law (aka Q).  It  was a trip seeing him play with his grand-daughter!  I was like, wait! What? Making all kinds of sounds and faces to get her attention.  He'd inform her, mock sternly, that she "shouldn't say" anything to the rest of us, but "talk" to him only.  This, when she was a whopping one month old!  Nothing amused and pleased him more than when she'd go quiet when he came by, after a long stint of unpacifiable crying.  He would admonish her not to mix with the "terrorists" aka "the rest of us" as we'd only come by to "terrorize" her! And on and on it went.  What am I saying?  On and on it goes!  She's a little over two years old and they keep quite the conversation.  KiKi, in one of her earlier sentences, told him over the phone, "Grand-dad I'm hungry." (She had just eaten.)  We could hear him over the phone asking to speak with her mother, to whom was then directed a (mock) onslaught of why she starving the child! Like I said, it goes on...

But that's a peek at Daddy with the family.  What does he mean to me and why do I like him so much?


WHY I LIKE MY DAD
He is one of the best friends for which a daughter could ever ask.  His heart toward me is genuine.  He looks out for me; cares for me and about me.  It doesn't matter how old I am - it never has - I can always rely on him.   He doesn't make me promises he has no intention of keeping and, if I ask him and he says he will, I just consider it done. 

Daddy has never told me that he loves me and there's never a day that I would doubt it.  I am precious to him and I know it.  He doesn't express his heart in words but indeed in deeds.  Now and again I listen to him showering accolades on me or bragging about me in public and I smile a bit, not knowing how to contain the swelling of thanks in my heart.  For, quite simply, I am thankful that I make him proud.


SENSE OF HUMOUR
I like him, too, because of his wicked sense of humour.  He makes me laugh.  And laugh.  And laugh.  Gotta share a recent episode that occurred on my vacation in Jamaica several days ago.  He informed me, shortly after picking me up at the airport, that we were going to head out with Mommy to the Fish-Fry at church. We got there, everything was fine.  The cooks then ran out of festival. But, this was no ordinary festival  This was festival with a twist - literally.  After kneading, they made the dough long and stringy, bent it in the middle, then repeatedly twisted each long piece over the other, before putting it in the pot of extra-hot oil to be fried.  Just before we left, Daddy asked them for the cost - for all three of us.  When the lady told him the amount, without missing a beat, Daddy replied, "Fi wha?  Fi likkle plait flowah?!"  A nearly pop up!!!  But, if you think that's something, you should hear the jokes he tells of his days living in James Hill, Clarendon - the district in which he grew up.  It would please me to write that book: Jokes My Father Tells.

Speaking of writing, he has wanted that for some time - for me to assist him in writing his book.  And I will, life spared.  He even has a title and has recently acquired a tape recorder to get cracking.  At this point in my writing journey, I have come to believe that I can actually do this!


GETS THINGS DONE
I imagine that most children who grow up with loving dads believe that their dad is strong and can do practically anything!  I was no exception.  This was a belief bolstered by a feat that we achieved working together one day when I was about nine.  In order to get a tarp tied to a post in the backyard, he hoisted me on his shoulders, then around his neck.  And there, in full view of those cheering me on, I wrapped the cord around whatever it should have been wrapped around and secured it.  When we were done, they were all pleased, none grinning more than I!  But, that's him.  He gets things done and you just feel pleased when you're a part of it, because you know it's gonna turn out okay.  After all, he's giving his all.


GIVING
He knows the meaning of giving, not just in lip service but in life service.  I have known him to give and provide for others without looking for anything in return.  There are some members of the clergy that get chewed out because, well, because they don't exhibit the heart of a servant.  Instead, they want to be served.  I don't quite know how to relate to that.   For, I have seen giving and a Christ's-servant heart in action, even though there have been some that have turned around and bit the hand.  But, Daddy has a saying, "Right must stay and wrong must go." 

These days, people hardly want to talk about right and wrong.  The risk of being labelled judgemental is very real and way too high.  But, in his mind, right is right and wrong is wrong.  It's a by-their-fruits-you-shall-know-them, thing, I imagine.  And, I admire that.  It takes courage, although he mightn't think so.  For him, it's just what it is.


HIS INFLUENCE
He has grown into quite the gentle giant.  He mightn't stand tall in stature, but his presence cannot help but be felt.  He fills a room simply by being in it.  Respect is earned, it is said.  He gives it and he earns it - and he doesn't stand for foolishness.  He was a strict father. (All his "warnings" to beat us never materialized.  He just held our shoulders and shook us, if things got to that). He never doted on us (three then, later on, four girls) but in his acts of kindness, grew us to realize that it's important to keep your word.  Given his strength and his support - including allowing me to make some heck of a painful mistakes - I have grown into a strong, independent, happy and stable young woman.  There are some things on which there will not - cannot - be any compromise, in whatever the relationship - work, intimate, social etc.  Sometime along the journey, he became my friend.  I am comfortable talking to him about the men who indicate some measure of interest at some point.  I have his support but I also know that he trusts my judgement.  And, he is praying for me. 

You know the saying, "All girls become their mothers" and another: "All girls marry their fathers"?  I cannot even get into the couch psychology on this;  not trained even for that layman level.  What I can say, however, is that there are good qualities in my dad, that I would like to see in my husband - the other man in my life.


THE OTHER MAN IN MY LIFE
OK, so, we haven't yet "connected" - hence the quotation marks up top.  Still, I am calling those things that are not, as though they are!  Not looking for a replica of my dad, but a few like traits.  These include a sense of humour; sense of responsibility; knowing what's important and keeping the priorities priorities.  In other matters:

My husband, Mr. Right-for-me, is a man who will cut open the tin of cheese and then proceed to remove it from the tin, not leave it there on the counter still in the tin, knowing full well that that's the harder part. I am a strong young woman, but removing Tastee cheese from the big tin is pretty demanding!

My husband is a man who is not afraid of croaking liz**ds.  Even spelling it out freaks me out!

My husband is a man who is able to do Maths and can help the children with that and like homework.

And, I look forward to meeting my him, and for the day when he whispers those three little words, "I'll do laundry."  (I've never met a chore I hated more. To parody a Monk line: I hate laundry's guts!)

On a more serious note, though (operative term being "more"), God's gift to me, my him, complements me. Christ already completes me; He is It for me.  My husband, who is also complete in Christ, complements the person I have become in Christ, and I him.  He knows, as Prov. 31 says, that his heart can safely trust in me, so that he has no need of spoil, and that I will do him good and not evil all the days of my life. And, we honour the divinity in each other.

I cannot help but smile as I think about how God perfects all that concerns me.  He has blessed me with a wonderful father, a loving and supportive rest of family.  And, to think, there's mine to come!


Claudia
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