Hello, dear reader. I’d apologize for my long absence, but the truth is, this is how most of my blogging efforts end up. I’ll endeavor to do better moving forward.
Today is Father’s Day, and because I happen to have lived for nearly four decades with a remarkable father, it seemed only right to share a little about what I’ve learned from him here. I hope these words reflect just a small measure of the respect, admiration, and love I have for a great dad.
We’re sort of terrible at taking selfies, but I rather love this one, from an Eagles concert on Father’s Day two years ago.
I’ve written before about how he won my first camera in a photo contest, and how that changed my life. But I’ve not told you about how he has supported my interest in the art for more than two decades. Or how he has emboldened me to go confidently in the direction of my dreams. How he helped me pack all of my things in a trailer and move to Austin for grad school, knowing he would return to a truly empty house for the first time since my mother died.
I’ve not yet told you about the lessons in kindness and generosity I learned from a young age. What it meant to see people in need and find ways to meet that need.
Or how I learned from his example just what it means to really show up. To show up when things are hard. To be true to your obligations to other people even when it hurts or it’s scary or it’s not going to end the way you want.
Y’all. My dad has friends he’s still in contact with from childhood and junior high and high school and college. I love this about him because it’s a perfect example of his faithfulness to other people. He’s a genuine friend for the long haul.
Speaking of faithfulness, I can’t tell you how much I admire his steadfast commitment to service in the work of the church. Some of my earliest memories are of him serving on the missions committee of the church I grew up at, hearing him talk about the work that was going on. I distinctly remember him routinely calculating the 17-hour time difference between here and New Zealand so he could plan a time to call our missionary — and his friend — there.
Nearly every quarter for the past four decades you could find him teaching or co-teaching a class. I’ve seen the way he prepares and the seriousness of his study, the sections of his library devoted to books about the bible. I’ve seen him lead Griefshare classes, helping others learn to navigate life after loss.
I love all of the ways I am like him: our sentimental hearts, our shared love of history and football and aviation, our passion for photography, our deep interest in books and learning. I am grateful every day that of all the dads in the world, this one is mine.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad.