Impact

Some words bring vivid images to bear

For me, impact brings a collage of imagery

Impact

July 5, 1930

Eighty years ago, a star landed on earth

This star did not hit the earth like an asteroid

Or create the havoc of a falling star

I would imagine, for that era,

There was not much splash at all

Except for family and some close friends

The event went mainly unnoticed by humanity

However, in the heavens, there was notice

It has been eighty years since the first impact

That birth immediately impacted some

And then, weaving a bold, yet intricate thread

It has impacted thousands

A stranger could closely inspect this life

And ascertain that the effect was minimal

Yet, today, there is a multitude,

Impacted by this one single life

Immediate family, approaching one hundred

Church family, in the thousands

Associates, colleagues, neighbors, nearly uncountable

And, his star, shone brightly for them all

Even his casual passing changed people

Such was his impact

Closer to home

I hear him when I talk at times

I see him when I glance quickly at a mirror

I know, when I think about things, I feel his impact

He was the most important man in my life

For all the things people called him

Too some, he was pastor

Too others, he was friend

There were some that called him boss

And other that called him a co-worker

I was, and still am, thrilled to call him ‘dad’

Thank you Dad

For your immeasurable impact

In my life

Ron Simpson, Jr.

July 5, 2010

in Celebration of Fathers

The man that saw me as a child and the child that saw me as a man

Can I tell you how hard I fought to grow up?

No matter what I did I still was the child

You were proud all my life when I did the grownup things

How delighted you were when I began to talk

How you beamed when I began to crawl and walk

Beginning school and even jobs eventually

Even as I grew into all the things men do

Part of me remained a child

That part that ever lived in the back of your eyes

There was a part of me that never left those days

When seeing the pride in your eyes was everything

Others could certify and recognize my accomplishments

The established authority could give me frame-able evidence

Still it paled in relationship to the feeling I got

When the child in my heart burst into your room

Excitedly carrying the proof of my accomplishment

To show it to you and to see once more

The child that still lived in the back of your eyes

I could see him, you know

He would awaken from some light slumber

He would come close to the side of your eyes

And as he heard you go on about whatever prize I had brought

He would begin to glow faintly

As you would scrutinize the evidence

As he read with you every word

Every whereas and hitherto

He would come to a sparkle

Barely noticeable to those gathered around

But the child half that resided within me

Saw the brother that still resided within you

And for that moment

I lived as a boy that still needed his father’s approval

For all our relationship may have become

This part of it seemed ordained to remain

The child that lived within me always needed to be in touch

With that child that lived still in the back of your eyes

That symbiosis sustaining both

Each carrying to and carrying from

Both the child I thought I would always be

And the child you thought you would always see

Then one day

Quite unexpectedly

You went away

The adult I had turned into knew the day would come

Even unexpectedly, my heart had tried to prepare me

I had filled my life with relationships designed to replace

I had established other ports to share my goods

They offered the heartfelt pat on the back

They brought the warmth of societal recognition to bear

They stood ready to replace

That one place that could never be replaced

For all their warmth and genuineness

They did not have the child I would always be

Living deep within the back of their eyes

No matter how often the child inside came to see

There was no child other half looking back at me

Dad, I miss so many things about our relationship

Others have stepped up to try to fill

No one does so in any attempt to take your place

They do so merely to fill your empty space

None of these, however, can fill this space

It has come to me finally some fifty plus years past my birth

That the child I recognized so intently in your eyes

The child that called out so earnestly to the child in mine

Was there before I was even born

He was in part, part of the joy you had for me as your son

And part of the child that lived in your eyes

That always looked for the child in his father’s eyes

I thought the child living in the back of my eyes would die

When you left so abruptly that day in March

I knew he would languish and pass without his symbiotic partner

But I have found, and none too soon

He lives just fine

He sparkles and shines

And exchanges his knowing glances

With the children that still live in the eyes of mine

My sons and daughters still seek him

Even if they do not know it

There is a child still living behind their adult eyes

And that child still bursts into dad’s room

Bearing the authentication of their accomplishments

They bring the frame-able evidence into the court

They know they are fulfilling the role of adult

But there is a child living deep inside

That comes to find the child living deep inside

And they sparkle and shine

As the children that never die

Behind the sparkles in dad’s eyes

I cannot see the child that lived in your eyes anymore

I will miss him ever

But his work and legacy go on

He has taught me to ever see

The children living deep inside

Hiding playfully behind

The adult in my children’s eyes

Ron Simpson, Jr.

March 27, 2009

in Celebration of Fathers

A Hero

As a growing boy

I had several heroes

Some wore capes

Some flew through the air

Some had webs

While others had glowing repulsor beams

My childhood heroes

Came in various sizes, shapes, and colors

They had special powers

With super secret identities

They had super foes

To provide spectacular battles

As I grew,

My heroes changed

They became more real

And worked their special abilities

In the real world

The same real world in which I lived

They were leaders

Men and women of peace

Or champions of important causes

They battled injustices

With the powers of the mind

And the weapon of the pen

Older now

And looking across a stretch of time

That sees the changes

Wrought by a near lifetime

Of growing and changing

My heroes have become closer

The caped flying warrior of justice

Still brings the smile to my boyish heart

The champions of world issues

Still stir my being to fight the good fight

However, now I can see the heroes

That have been with me all my life

You didn’t put on a cape and fight my foes

But you did keep me safe

You didn’t fight hunger in the world arena

But you worked, everyday, and fed a family

You have always been my champion

Even when the sparkle in my eyes

Was captured by some far distant star

You are one of my heroes, Dad

Even when I didn’t know what heroes were

You were there filling those shoes

Today, you will just smile

And say you were doing what fathers do

But, I will know,

That is part of being a hero too

Thanks for all the years

Of being my unsung hero

Ron Simpson, Jr.

June 18, 2006

in Celebration of Fathers

We Followed You

When we were young

We would follow you around the house

We would go from room to room

Crawling or toddling, as children do

We didn’t know where you were going

Or where the journey would end

We simply knew

We wanted to follow you

We were scattered severally

Over a ten year span

So, while some crawled, some walked

But each of us, in our own way

Followed you

You never really acknowledged

That you knew how closely we watched

Or how hard we tried to follow

But, I am sure you knew

And you led, and we followed

Some of us, or just one of us

So bold in our teenage rebellion

Promised we would never walk your paths

We would blaze our own trails

In opposite, or perhaps, obstinate directions

Not realizing, that in doing so

We were following you

You taught us to travel

And follow our own courses

You gave us more than you ever had

You didn’t change our diapers

Or feed us our meals

While some doctor of figuring out reasons

Would have a field day with that

Still, we never doubted your love

And still, we followed you

A while back

You stepped through a door

And we could follow you no more

At least, not for long while

But, you left a trail

A pattern, if you will

A shining example

We cannot follow you as closely

As when we crawled behind your heels

We can still follow you

We can follow your example

We can follow your life

That you lived fully and openly

We can follow your words

That you shared without hesitation

We can follow your heart

That you gave without reservation

We can follow your faith

That was manifest in everything you did

You lived right

You left too soon

I hope

When my day comes

I have the same faith

I have the same course

I hope

I have followed as you followed

I hope

We have followed you

Ron Simpson, Jr.

December 22, 2007

in Celebration of Fathers

The Child I Never Saw

When I met him,

He was as old as anyone I knew,

As we walked,

He aged, and I grew;

I never knew him unknowing,

I never saw him young,

I saw that shining warrior,

Of which many songs were sung;

He held me,

He clothed me,

He fed me,

I was the child,

He could not be;

As I played hide-n-seek,

He saw what my tomorrows might be,

He worked,

And he dreamed, for me;

He held faith,

He harbored hope,

He kept the dream,

I never saw the child,

But, hand in hand,

We walked in times stream;

The man I am today,

Belongs to the child I never saw.

Thanks, Dad.

Ron Simpson, Jr.

June 21, 2001

in Celebration of Fathers

this was written two weeks before Dad passed away ..

I Believe

He has been my teacher all of my life
The lessons ranged from simple to difficult
We have talked about life
And all the things that fill it
We even talked about the end of life
And what comes beyond

I see his lessons in the actions I take
I see his hand in numerous places in my life
Sometimes when I talk, I hear him
Saying the same words in another place
And that gives me a measure of confidence
To use the words already tried and true

One of the lessons Dad spoke of
Involved one of life’s hardest realities
He talked about a time
When he would not be here
He wasn't making plans
But knew that time’s eventuality
Would catch up to even him one day

Standing here, looking at you
More helpless than I have ever seen
I remember what you would say
If you were looking over my shoulder
I can hear the words you have spoken
And I know the reality

God is more than able
He is working all things
According to his time and plan
Be not afraid, only believe
Faith is the substance of things hoped for
The evidence of things not seen

These are the words
Tried and true
These are the words
You are still saying to me
And I believe, Dad
I believe.

Ron Simpson Jr

February 22, 2007

in Celebration of Fathers

Father’s Day

It seems being a father gets more difficult every year. The responsibility and decisions keep getting bigger. It was much easier to decide between the Malibu Barbie and the Glamour Barbie. It was easier to care for them then, seeing as how they were just sleeping in the next room. If something, anything, happened in the night, I was just a cry away. I remember how hard it was watching them, as they were sick or hurting. I remember how much I wanted their aches and pains to stop. I recall how we fretted about the fevers and the scraps.

Now days, the cry in the night comes across a phone line. The hallway between our bedrooms has grown by miles. No one warned me about how tough this was going to be. When my girls were young, I could get up in the night, walk quietly into their rooms, check their fevers, pull up the covers, and steal away back into my bedroom. When they cried, we were there to wipe the tears away. When I worry these days, I just have to worry. I cannot be there to wipe away the tears now.

I thought parenting would be much easier than this. My parents made it look so easy. Being in their place now, I realize how hard it was for them. I also understand that part of it never goes away. Rightly done, parenting is forever coupled with the worry. Worry ebbs like the tide. Some days it is low tide. Some days it is high tide. Every year the decisions change. It has gone from help with homework to help picking out a good insurance company. It has changed from helping with their dolls and tea parties, to helping with the grandchildren and real dinners.

Yes, being a father has grown way beyond my original expectations. It is more difficult. It entails much longer hours than I anticipated. The choices are harder every year. When I look at my daughters, however, I cannot wait. I will worry, as I should. I will be quiet when I need be. I will be the great tower of advice. It will be much harder next year, and I can hardly wait.

Ron Simpson, Jr.

Father of Audrey, Chasity, and Heather

Fill in Father for Chris, Sierra, Chelsea, and Kyle

Father’s Day 2004

in Celebration of Fathers

In celebration of Father's Day, I will post a poem each day this week dealing with fathers .. mostly mine .. since he was my shining example ..

From The Shore

There is a lighthouse standing,

O'er the rocky breaking shore

It's light a glaring bright,

It's horn, a lion's roar;

It clings to it's foundation,

Though progress crowds it's fragile perch,

For lost in deep and murky waters,

Desperate ships for him search;

He stands out from all the others,

His architecture old, but true,

When change is all around us,

He is always close to view;

Marking off his constant light,

Many ships have safely sailed,

Ignoring his oh so gentle roar,

Upon the rocks ships have failed;

There is a lighthouse standing,

Father, he is called,

Different from all the others,

For in him, Love is walled;

He looms above the crowded throng,

A tower filled with wonders much,

His roar, both stern and gentle,

His light, a probing and warming touch;

In deep and silent waters,

Needing directions from the shore,

I seek the bright and guiding light,

And listen for his lion's roar;

For though I pilot this wondrous ship,

I hope never to be alone,

For on the shore stands my father,

Guiding me from times more known;

Always be old, but true,

Always shine and roar,

Always be my guiding light,

Even from the shore;

Thank you, Dad.

Ron Simpson, Jr.

Father’s Day 1994

the plague

I have the plague. I am sniffling, sneezing, wheezing and dripping. This morning I got a nosebleed. I liked to never got it to stop. I have had it on a milder level for the better part of the week. I haven't done much this week.

I did do this drawing recently. It is Dad. The lower right is him at 19 years old and in the US Air Force. The upper left is his 50th year wedding anniversary. I still miss him so.

More of that poetry stuff

The man that saw me as a child and the child that saw me as a man

Can I tell you how hard I fought to grow up?
No matter what I did I still was the child
You were proud all my life when I did the grownup things
How delighted you were when I began to talk
How you beamed when I began to crawl and walk
Beginning school and even jobs eventually
Even as I grew into all the things men do
Part of me remained a child
That part that ever lived in the back of your eyes

There was a part of me that never left those days
When seeing the pride in your eyes was everything
Others could certify and recognize my accomplishments
The established authority could give me frame-able evidence
Still it paled in relationship to the feeling I got
When the child in my heart burst into your room
Excitedly carrying the proof of my accomplishment
To show it to you and to see once more
The child that still lived in the back of your eyes

I could see him, you know

He would awaken from some light slumber
He would come close to the side of your eyes
And as he heard you go on about whatever prize I had brought
He would begin to glow faintly
As you would scrutinize the evidence
As he read with you every word
Every whereas and hitherto
He would come to a sparkle
Barely noticeable to those gathered around
But the child half that resided within me
Saw the brother that still resided within you
And for that moment
I lived as a boy that still needed his father’s approval

For all our relationship may have become
This part of it seemed ordained to remain
The child that lived within me always needed to be in touch
With that child that lived still in the back of your eyes
That symbiosis sustaining both
Each carrying to and carrying from
Both the child I thought I would always be
And the child you thought you would always see
 
Then one day
Quite unexpectedly
You went away

The adult I had turned into knew the day would come
Even unexpectedly, my heart had tried to prepare me
I had filled my life with relationships designed to replace
I had established other ports to share my goods
They offered the heartfelt pat on the back
They brought the warmth of societal recognition to bear
They stood ready to replace
That one place that could never be replaced
For all their warmth and genuineness
They did not have the child I would always be
Living deep within the back of their eyes

No matter how often the child inside came to see
There was no child other half looking back at me

Dad, I miss so many things about our relationship
Others have stepped up to try to fill
No one does so in any attempt to take your place
They do so merely to fill your empty space
None of these, however, can fill this space

It has come to me finally some fifty plus years past my birth
That the child I recognized so intently in your eyes
The child that called out so earnestly to the child in mine
Was there before I was even born
He was in part, part of the joy you had for me as your son
And part of the child that lived in your eyes
That always looked for the child in his father’s eyes

I thought the child living in the back of my eyes would die
When you left so abruptly that day in March
I knew he would languish and pass without his symbiotic partner
But I have found, and none too soon
He lives just fine
He sparkles and shines
And exchanges his knowing glances
With the children that still live in the eyes of mine
My sons and daughters still seek him
Even if they do not know it
 
There is a child still living behind their adult eyes
And that child still bursts into dad’s room
Bearing the authentication of their accomplishments
They bring the frame-able evidence into the court
They know they are fulfilling the role of adult
But there is a child living deep inside
That comes to find the child living deep inside
And they sparkle and shine
As the children that never die
Behind the sparkles in dad’s eyes

I cannot see the child that lived in your eyes anymore
I will miss him ever
But his work and legacy go on
He has taught me to ever see
The children living deep inside
Hiding playfully behind
The adult in my children’s eyes

Ron Simpson, Jr.
March 27, 2009

Memory day

Today is shaping up to be a memory day. I have been thinking about dad. He passed away March 8, 2007. He was born July 5, 1930. He was so much more than the sum of his parts. At times in my life he wore several hats. He seemed to always know which hat to wear at the right time. Allow me to explain:

He was my father (always.)

For a time in my life, he was my Pastor.

He was my teacher.

There were times he was my Foreman on an electrical job.

There were times he was my tool buddy on electrical jobs.

He was my friend.

He was my mentor.

He was my sectional leader when I was District Elder, Church Growth Director, and Christian Education Director.

We have worked together and we have butted heads. We didn't always agree, as any two individuals are apt to do. He knew how to disagree without being disagreeable. He always sought to teach me. He never sugar-coated the truth. He told me the truth even when he knew it would cut me. He took no pleasure in the hurt, but realized the greater good made it necessary.

I remember growing up that I never had to question that he loved me. I hated him at times, or thought I did. I was mad at him at times.

He was, as you can gather from the hats he wore, a minister, pastor, and an electrician. When I was a brash 13-year-old, he asked me what i wanted to be when I grew up. I told him I wasn't sure but knew two things I never wanted to be, an electrician or a preacher.

I accepted the call into the ministry when I was 18-years-old, and began my apprenticeship to the Electricians union the same year. Odd, how life works.

I write, draw, and paint. Years later, I discovered some paintings that dad did, and heard of his considerable writing skills as well. It seemed, in this case, the acorn did not fall far from the tree.

He taught me even when I didn't know he was teaching me. He taught me by living his life. There was an incident in my life when I was 17 that arose through a comment my sister made aloud in Sunday School where Mom was our teacher. When we got home, Mom was reading me the riot act, when she asked Dad if he had anything to say. His response, "I can't make him take it back." It turned out the girl was not pregnant.

Cut to years later:

My daughter calls and I need to come to where she works. She has something important to tell me. She was pregnant. She was 18. I go to her work. She comes out to hug me. As we hug, I ask the question, before she can even tell me, "How far along are you?" I remembered Dad. I could have yelled. I could have screamed. I could have told her it was stupid. I could have quoted statistics about teenage pregnancy. However, all the things I could do, right or wrong, wouldn't take away her pregnancy. Thanks Dad.

Trust me, I am not claiming to be the best father of the year. I made plenty of mistakes. I did the wrong thing sometimes. Parenting is a learning/teaching thing.

The lessons were as varied as the situations we encountered. Dad knew how to be right and he knew how to be wrong. One thing he told me was: If you did it, admit it. If you didn't do it, dont accept the blame. Be willing to apologize even when you are not in the wrong.

When dad died, the funeral home couldn't hold the flowers or the people. A friend of mine, showing support for TJ and I came to the funeral home to bring flowers, even though he had never met dad. He was amazed. He had never seen anything like it. There were 110 flower arrangements sent or delivered. There were over 1000 visitors. People came from all over the country. He was a pastor of a small church in Lexington, Kentucky, and his life had touched the world. There were missionaries. There were pastors. There were evangelists. There were electricians. There were friends. There was family. The funeral was attended by over 500. His burial was a more private affair, just family, mainly.

Someone told me, recently, that I had the same heart. I was thrilled that someone might see dad in me. Someone told me just this weekend that I reminded them of dad. Again, it thrills me to be compared to him. While I am an individual with my own personality, I like when people see the best of dad in me.

Dad always worried that he would be forgotten. No one that knew dad, ever forgot him. I am always running into people who knew dad.

You can google his name and not find out much. Still, he was a positive influence to thousands of people. He will always be in my heart.

I love you Dad, now as ever.

In honor

Tammy's ex passed away nearly a year ago. He passed on November 25th, 2007. Old readers of my blog will remember those posts. Tammy asked me if I could write something for the kids to help them through this difficult anniversary. 2007 was a tough year around here. "C" said, "Everyone in this house lost a father in 2007." My dad went home on March 8th of that year. Tammy's dad passed almost a month later. Then, in November, the kids lost their dad.

Tammy thought it might be hard for me, being as I lost dad so close to all this. I still miss my dad tremendously. That missing, and knowing the kids went into this. I know it is a day early, but here is something in his memory .. for the kids.

You and Me

Time passed
But time stood still
Part of me recognizes
That it has, in fact, been a year
Three hundred sixty-five days
Since you left us unexpectedly
My mind knows it has been that long
Part of me still feels
Like it was just yesterday

No time has passed
In that part of my heart
It froze on that day
Others in my heart continued
While
In that place
Where you live
Time has stopped

There
You still laugh
You still play
You still speak

There
We still walk and talk
We still love

There
We still are
You and me

For C, S, C, and K
On the anniversary of R’s passing
November 25, 2008

Ron Simpson, Jr.

If the world didn’t stop

I knew the world would stop
When you stopped being in it
It was as if you were the reason it turned
Even though I knew this wasn’t true

You stopped and it continued
I stayed in it continuing as well
The part of me that belonged to you
Still ties our worlds together

Here in expanding life
There in the finished life
We are bound forever
By this cord we wove in life

As I walk and sometimes run
Life is full and yet missing a part
That part, however, is never far
I feel you with me everyday

In nearly fifty years
I never fully considered
What life would be like
Without you where you were

There is no phone I can use
There is no quick drive
There is no email return
None of these bring you to me

There is one place I can go
One place where I always find you
It is the one place
Where I miss you the most

In my heart
You are there
One of the places
Your world kept turning

This is the place you had in life
That was covered by your presence
The overlooked, taken for granted place
That never stopped when life did

Every story adds to you
Every old friend I talk with
In our common circle
Brings more of you to my heart

Over a year and a half
And you are more today
Than you were then
Less than you will be tomorrow

I love you dad
More than ever

Thanks

Ron Simpson, Jr.
October 2, 2008

trips back .. in time and place

Yesterday, I took a trip back.

Let me start by telling you that my oldest daughter is having surgery on Monday. She called me to discuss it and another issue. Her surgery is in the same hospital where dad died. She started her quest by asking me if I blamed the hospital for dad's death.

While Dad was recovering from cancer surgery (they had removed one of his kidneys,) he began having trouble with fluid build up. This was a great concern for his doctors. They were afraid that the one kidney was not picking up the extra work. (I am paraphrasing and simplifying.) They scheduled more tests and procedures. The orderlies came to get dad to take him downstairs for the tests. They were not able to get him on a gurney, as dad was a large man. They eventually decide to just take him down in the bed he was in. They laid it down and wheeled him out. as he was leaving the room and going down the hall, I heard him tell the orderlies that he could breathe better if they sat him up a little.

While downstairs waiting on the test, dad stopped breathing. His heart stopped. It took them eight minuted to resuscitate him. He never fully recovered after that. There were fleeting moments when he would look at someone or squeeze a hand, but they were few. After two weeks, we removed him from the ventilator. Twenty-four hours later, surrounded by his family, dad left us.

Now, to the blame thing. I do feel that the hospital had some culpability in dad's death. I believe they were instrumental in the way he died. However, I also feel that it was dad's time. I am not one of those, "If it is your time, there is nothing you can do about it, so don't fight it" type of people. I am not going to step in front of a bus and say, "If it isn't my time, I'll be okay." Nope, not going to happen. So, do I blame the hospital ? Yes and no. I know, could I be a little more vague?

She (daughter) is having surgery at that same hospital. Her doctor does surgery at the two hospital of that group. The only one with the equipment she needs is that one. "A" was freaking out a little. She has not been back to that hospital since dad's death, either. She was scared. I told her that I would be there when she went in. I would be there when she went to sleep. (It is a one night stay at the very least.) I would be there when she woke up. I would be there when she went home. Monday was going to be the first time back for both of us.

We were at home Thursday, when my phone (in the bedroom .. away from me) rang. I didn't try to answer it. Most people have both numbers (mine and Tammy's) so if it is important, they know the second number to dial. Tammy's phone rang. It was one of the ladies from the church. Her mother was at the Bourbon County Hospital and they were getting ready to take her to the hospital in Lexington. They thought she had a blockage in her heart. Our pastor, Brother Rudd was having a medical procedure at the time and would not be able to be there. I told her that I would be there when they arrived. She was going to .. you guessed it .. the hospital where dad died.

We arrived before the ambulance. We were coming from different places. We stopped and grabbed some lunch, not knowing how long we might be here. We ate it in the parking lot of the hospital. I prepared myself for any onslaught of emotion that might happen when I went into the building. I did okay. I kept myself busy while waiting. the TV was on in part of the waiting area. The family arrived. I talked with them. Eventually we were able to go into the unit to see "C". We talked to her about healing and stubbornness. We prayed with her and daughter.

From there we went home, since Kyle was coming home from school. Later the family called us to say she was going home. They couldn't find anything wrong. They ran a second EKG and it was the total opposite of the one ran in the Bourbon County Hospital. I will let you draw your own conclusions.

I think, being there with a purpose made a difference. I did not sit and think about the last trip. "A" called me today to tell me she had to be there later that day for preliminaries. I offered to meet her there, but she assured me she would be okay. She called me tonight to tell me she only broke down twice. "A" .. if you are reading this .. know this .. your daddy loves you .. you worry too much .. but it is part of who you are .. and I wouldn't change ya .. oh yeah .. and I still talk to him too .. (dad)

so, my trip back .. in place and time .. was okay. It was a good warm up for Monday.

We will see what that will bring ..

My First Without Dad

It wasn't as bad as I imagined. Still, it was hard.

somethng I wrote ...

We followed you

When we were young,
We would follow you around the house
We would go from room to room,
Crawling or toddling, as children do
We didn’t know where you were going,
Or where the journey would end
We simply knew,
We wanted to follow you

We were scattered severally
Across a ten year span
So, while some crawled, some walked
But each of us, in our own way
Followed you

You never really acknowledged
That you knew how closely we watched
Or how hard we tried to follow
But I am sure you knew
And you led, and we followed

Some of us, or just one of us
So bold in our teenage rebellion
Promised we would never walk your paths
We would blaze our own trails
In opposite or perhaps obstinate directions
Not realizing that in doing so
We were following you

You taught us to travel
And follow our own courses
You gave us more than you ever had
You didn’t change our diapers
Or feed us our meals
While some doctor of figuring out reasons
Would have a field day with those
Still we never doubted your love
And still, we followed you

A while back
You stepped through a door
And we could follow you no more
At least not for a long while
But, you left a trail
A pattern if you will
A shining example

While we cannot follow you as closely
As when we crawled behind your heels
We can still follow you
We can follow your example
We can follow your life
Which you lived fully and openly
We can follow your words
Which you shared without hesitation
We can follow your heart
Which you gave without reservation
We can follow your faith
Which was manifest in everything you did

You lived right
You left too soon

I hope
When my day comes
I have the same faith
I have the same course
I hope
I have followed as you followed

I hope
We have followed you

Ron
December 22, 2007

Legacy

“I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in the truth”

What more could a man leave his children?

What riches could a father leave that would mean more than giving his children the basis of faith?

Long before I was aware of concepts of life and death, Dad was preparing for them. He ordered his life so that his life, or his death, would have far reaching effects.

I was completely unprepared for his passing. In my hearts imaginings, I had accepted that there would be a time in my life when I could not pick up the phone and call him for advice, or that I could not drive across town to sit down with him and tell him about my problems. That time was off somewhere in the far reaching future.

Dad used to joke with me, both of us being electricians, he had taught me everything I knew. I used to come back with, “No Dad, you taught me all that you know. The rest of this I learned on my own.” Neither of those was completely accurate. He hadn’t taught me all that I knew, nor had he taught me everything that he knew. What he had taught me was “enough.” The wonder of it all is that even now, he still teaches me more and more every day. His life teaches me as I listen to the stories told by those that knew him. His life continues to teach me as I recall conversations we had, sometimes in complete disagreement.

His death teaches me as well. It speaks more poignantly about the finiteness of life than any of his masterful lessons. Let me assure you fathers out there that no matter what you say to your children, you still hold the place of immortal in their lives. You must consider the words and actions you present to them. Dad did not leave me a vast estate with bulging bank accounts. What he did leave me, were his words and his actions. They were the sometimes-stumbling thoughts of a man keenly aware of his mortality to his son, stricken by the invincibility of his father. He knew what I could not know, and knew he had to prepare me for the time that I did know.

He left me a brilliant legacy. He gave me a radiant testament to faith in God. There is not enough time for me to tell you all the ways he helped shape and mold me. Time will not allow me to extol all his good and generous characteristics. More than a few have told me since his death that they see a lot of him in me. While I am not called to be, nor could I ever be, him, it is an honor to be compared to this tower of love and compassion.

This man you were fortunate enough to call friend or pastor, I was blessed to call Dad. I have never missed him more than I do today and that missing, is an integral part of my blessing. His profound influence on my life will ever be part of my banner, like the mantle of Elijah.

For more reasons than I can count, thank you, Dad.

Happy Fathers Day.