Me, at seven: “Dad, can I be a priest when I grow up?”
Dad: “A priest?”
Me: “It’s a man in church that sits in a box and listens to you talk. I saw it on a show I watched with Grandma.”
Dad: “I know what it is. Why do you want to be one?”
Me: “Because you get to sit in the curtains and listen to people tell you stuff.”
Dad: “There are two problems with that. You’re not Catholic. And you’re not a man.”
Me: “Why do you have to be a man? What’s a Catholic? And if I can’t be a priest, can I at least play the organ?”
Dad: “All good questions. And I’ll answer them later when I’m not eating breakfast.”
Adam: “Dad, Renee called me a dipstick!”
Dad: “Did you?”
Me, at eight: “No. Yes.”
Dad: “Do you know what that is?”
Me: “No.”
Dad: “Well, then you’ve learned two lessons. Don’t call names and don’t use words you don’t know.”
Me: “What does it mean?”
Dad: “Look it up. Write it down. And don’t use it again unless you’re going to use it right.”
Me, at ten: “Dad, it hurts to breathe.”Dad: “No talking. You need to breathe. We’re almost to the hospital.”
Me: “Why are you crying?”
Dad: “Just breathe, Twerpie.”
Dad: “Did you use my pen again?”
Me, at 11: “Yes.”
Dad: “And what do I call that pen?”
Me: “Your never not once pen.”
Dad: “Why?”
Me: “Because I’m not supposed to touch it, never, not once.”
Dad: “But you did. Did you also monkey time with my desk papers?”
Me: “Maybe. Yes.”
Dad: “And what have I told you about that?”
Me: “Never to monkey time with anything on or near your desk.”
Dad: “When can you touch my desk?”
Me: “When you die.”
Dad: “Exactly. Let’s not go through this again.”
Me, at 12: “Dad, will you take me to the library?”
Dad: “Are your legs broken?”
Me: “No, but Adam says it’s too hot to ride his bike and I don’t want to go by myself.”
Dad: “How about if instead of taking you, I rode with you?”
Me: “And then we can ride to the newsstand and get ice cream at that place we found last week?”
Dad: “Let’s go. And don’t forget your library card. Again.”
Me: “Don’t need it! I turned my books in late so I have fines again. I’ll use yours.”
Me, at 18, sitting down to breakfast and seeing a newspaper clipping on my plate: “What’s this?”
Dad: “Read it.”
Me, reading: “’John Grisham Buys House for Parents.’ So?”
Dad: “Something to keep in mind.”
Me: “That’s Grisham, Dad. You know how many books he sold this year alone?”
Dad: “Today, it’s Grisham. Tomorrow, it’s you.”
Me, at 19: “Dad, can I drop out of college?”
Dad: “Why?”
Me: “I can’t do it. It’s too hard. And I’ll never use my degree. No one cares about literature anymore.”
Dad: “What’s that?” pointing to a letter on the refrigerator.
Me: “The Dean’s List.”
Dad: “If it’s so hard, then why is your name on that?”
Me: “No. I meant hard, as in the people and the campus. I just don’t see the point.”
Dad: “Then I’ll give you some points. A. When have I ever said it’s ok to quit something just because it’s hard? B. You can’t see the future. You have no idea if you’ll ever use your degree. And C. You care about literature. That’s enough.”
Me: “So. . .I can’t quit?”
Dad: “You can quit. But if you finish the course, you’ll have earned something that no one can take away from you. And I can promise you this: you will never once think back and wish you’d quit.”
Me, at 21, on the night before our wedding, packing up my bedroom things—I turn, and Dad is standing in the doorway.
Me: “Well, I’m finally moving out. Better late than never.”
Dad: “Looks like you’re ready.”
Me: “I am,” as I start crying. “I’m ready and I’m so happy but it’s so hard to leave. I just. . . I’m going to miss this.”
Dad, with tears in his eyes: “Me, too.”
Me, in my late thirties: “That’s my amends letter. I’m so sorry. I know I hurt you and Mom and nothing I can do will ever fix it. I’m just so ashamed, and I don’t know how to say I’m sorry enough times.”
Dad: “You don’t ever have to say it again. It’s done. And I’m proud of you.”
Me, at 7, 9, 14, 17—and every age, even now: “Dad? I need help.”
Dad: “On my way.”
That’s my dad, in a few literary snapshots. I know my mom, sisters, and brother could add countless more. But these are mine, and I needed to be reminded of them this past week. I’ve been watching all of the fallout from the #metoo movement—women coming forward, relieved to finally be able to tell their stories. And on the flip side, men, many of whom I’ve respected, losing their careers, their reputations, and their families as they’ve been accused of sexual misconduct. Most of these men seemed to deserve those losses; as far as I can tell, the women accusing them are telling the truth.
But last week, another name was added to that list. And it was the name of a preacher who has had an enormous impact on my life—not because I knew him personally, but because I’d watched his church services online and was touched again and again by his ministry. This was a man that I truly believed was called by God to a position of Christian leadership. And last week, I saw that his name was trending in my Facebook feed—and my heart sank. No, not him, too, I thought. So I researched the story and read every possible article I could find on it. The more I read, the more I was convinced that the media got it wrong this time. Not only had this man been extensively investigated—more so than any celebrity I’ve read about—but he was cleared of all charges. Yet I watched as he stood in front of a crowd of a thousand people and announced his decision to step down from his ministry so as not to distract from the church. He seemed broken, and though I know he will recover from this because he is a man of God, I also know that his reputation is forever tarnished, his ministry, for the time being, has been ruined, and his family is grieving.
And I wonder—why are we so quick to believe the very worst about people? I’m guilty of it, too. When that story broke, at first I believed it. And I thought, Are there no good men left? God convicted me quickly on that thought. I discovered that this was a good man. And God reminded me of a few good men that I just happen to have the privilege of knowing. Men like my dad, who has showed me all my life what a good man is: a man who does what is right, loves mercy, and walks humbly with his God. (Micah 6:8) Men like Monty, who are faithful and kind and know what it means to love for better and for worse. Men like my brother Adam, who are loyal and brave and willing to fight for the ones they love. Men in my church. Men in my recovery group.
The media would have you believe that men have an inability to be faithful, that they see women as objects and not people, and that all male integrity is gone. I refuse to believe it because I know differently. I know more than a few good men. If you are one of those good men, thank you. If you’re single and want a good man, be patient and don’t settle for a man who’s anything less than the one described in Micah 6:8. If you want to be a good man, I commend you and suggest that you start by reading Proverbs. And if you raised a good man, all of us women thank you. Maybe a good man isn’t that hard to find, after all.
“The time has come for all good men to rise above principle.”Huey Long
For Dad, Monty, and Adam:
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I love these views of your dad, Renee, and I’m glad that you still get to enjoy him. Mine has been gone for 18 1/2 years, and I still miss him so much some days. Thank you for writing this.
Thank you, Heather. I hope this brought back happy memories of you and your dad. I’m sorry that he’s gone but glad you have the memories to comfort you. Thanks for reading and sharing your thoughts.
Thank you Renee, this post really got me thinking about my dad and the good example he showed me to live up!
I’m so glad, Grover. Thank YOU for being one of those good men. And thank you for being such a faithful reader.
Renee, I don’t know if you knit or not, but I would call this piece “perfectly knitted together”. If this were a knitting project it would show a beautiful intricate pattern that needs to be shared with others on “how” it can be done.
I think men, in particular North American men, have had a rough ride. The image of men was to be a soldier, one that does not cry, is strong, works hard, provides and all those others qualities that were expected of them whether it suited them or not. Then came the women’s movement and men were supposed to change, got kicked to the curb in many ways. Talk about men becoming confused? From the men saying ” let me do this for you” to the women saying ” I don’t need you thank you, I can do this myself”.
The love of “my” life, was my father and you brought up many memories of him this morning
I remember this gentle giant as a man of integrity, love, gentleness, kindness, faithfulness, goodness and always a kind word for everyone. Not to mention that even as a humble plumber ( those days plumbers got paid little), he often would leave in the evening with his little case to help a neighbor in need to fix this or that without a cent being exchanged. He worked 5 and a half days a week, got up before 6 am, served mom a cup of tea, lit the stove and rode of on his bike to get to the work site by 7 am.
Saturday afternoons were always ours as the two youngest, we would always do this or that and it was the highlight of our week. Sundays after lunch and church, my father and I would always go for a walk across the fields, just the two of us, my youngest sister had issues with her feet those days. We looked at leaves, discover bulbs, identify birds and generally just enjoyed what nature had to offer. In the summer time he would pick a sugar beet, remove the skin with his little pocket knife and cut slices for us to eat ( no water bottles in those days) and certainly one did not stop on Sundays to eat or drink anything, or was anything open and or money to do so–so sugar beets it was!
Later I met the not so good men in my life, of course those were also because of choices I mistakenly made. I still believe in the good men and know they are out there!
Some years ago, almost 20 years now, I did chose a “man” who became my everything. Unfortunately it was because of him my relationships with other men often became impossible, in fact it also caused my marriage to collapse. Still, I will stick with the One who does love me just as I am. He has given me to keep my hope up that all will be well one day! Thank you Jesus!
Klara–I don’t knit, but that’s a beautiful analogy. Thank you. I think you are exactly right about men and the confusion about what their role is. I loved reading about your relationship with your father, especially your special Sunday afternoons; the sugar beets are a beautiful memory. You summed it all up perfectly–“I will stick with the One who does love me just as I am.” Thank you for your insightful comment and especially for sharing your memories.
Another perfect blog. Many people don’t choose to comment or like on Facebook, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t touch many people’s lives and hearts just when they need to hear something encouraging, or funny, or thoughtful! Thank you for loving me too!
Monty–thank you. You always know just what to say. Your words, and you, are perfect.
Good morning, Renee. Very emotional,thoughtful writing today. There are good men in thi world. My feeling is we have the “rush to judgement attitude. We thirst for the “sexy ” headline, or story. Maybe, it makes me think, “Hey I am not so bad”, look at that respected or powerful man, and all of their “misdeeds, hypocrites. It builds up our false self image. My Dad and Mom, would tell me, the “easy way”, is not the best way. When I made “missteps” personally or academically, they would remind me, “no”, this is not your path, no, you need to finish your homework. At this stage of life, I have finally come to the realization that IF I need help, and call on God, God says, “I’m on my way”, whether it is a physical or emotional need, I am in need of. I am also finally learning, to “slow down” my rush to judgement, and always to remember, Love unconditionally, show mercy and offer to listen,not judge, and walk humbly. Iwantto be a good husband, father, man. If I falter I stop and pray to God. Renee, My Mom is probably smiling at you, knowing that your wondeful words in your Blogs, are reawakening my mind somto speak, and You are continuing to carry My Mom’s torch tat she carried for me duringhe earthlydays. Great Blog Renee. God Bless You.
Harold–Great point about why we rush to judgment–that it makes us feel better when we compare ourselves to others. I love so much what you said about calling on God, and God says, “I’m on my way.” That thought is definitely going to stay with me. Yes, your mom is probably smiling, proud that her son is one of the good men. I’m humbled that you think I carry her torch. You have no idea how much you’ve blessed me this morning. Thank you, Hal.