ode to mi padre

My dad turned 53 on Wednesday. I turn 25 today. 

Oddly enough, thoughts of my closing in on a quarter century this week have been silenced by thoughts about my dad's 53 years and how blessed I am that I got to be a part of the last 25 of them.

People are always talking about heroes. The people who inspire us. The people we look up to. The people we one day hope to be like or make proud. Anyone who goes to Bethlehem with me here in Minneapolis knows very well that John Piper's hero is Jonathan Edwards. I've heard others in my small group throw out Tim Keller as theirs. For others, it's a teacher that pushed them in high school and encouraged them to pursue a dream. For still others, they are successful businessmen and women, world leaders, peacemakers, etc.

For me, it is and has always been my dad.

I could share with you the story about how my dad worked three jobs to pay his way through Purdue, not having any financial help from his family and taking on the additional debt of my mom's education when they married his junior year. I could tell you my favorite story of how he added on the job of Dominoe's delivery boy just to save up extra money so he could afford an engagement ring six months after he proposed. And then there's the story of how he graduated third in his class in law school all while helping my mom support my older sister with my brother on the way. I love those stories because I love hearing where my parents came from and how hard my dad had to work to get where he is today. 

I love those stories, but they aren't why he's my hero.

It's not how he somehow knows at least one person everywhere we go. It's not the confidence he seems to have been born with. It's not the beautiful home he and my mom made for my siblings and me. And no, it's not his business success that makes him my hero, either. He would never claim it as his own anyway, given that without the Lord he wouldn't have accomplished any of it - and he'll be the first to tell you that.

I'll tell you what it is, though.

It's the look of relief I saw on his face as he rushed into the gym after the commute home from Indy and realized that he'd made it in before tip-off to watch me go for the jump ball. It's the big bear hugs he gives me when I walk into my parents' home after months away in Minnesota and the way his salt & pepper beard scratches my forehead every time. It's the calm voice on the other side of the phone explaining to me how I'll make it through my first B, car crisis, work mishap, or broken heart. It's how I never once heard him yell at me in my 18 years under his roof but how knowing I'd disappointed him hurt worse than any sharp words ever could. It's walking in on him in the morning before school to find him deep in prayer over his Bible and knowing that he's never too proud to say he can't do a thing without God. It's standing by his side in the mud in Honduras, digging a seemingly endless trench to keep the local clinic from flooding. It's reading the prayers he's written for me every day for years, even in the days I was so far from God in college, and seeing how those prayers have been answered. It's the tears I heard in his throat when I called him last fall to tell him I'd asked God back into my life, knowing that he'd never stopped believing it could happen. It's notes I receive in the mail, written on his business stationery, reminding me to complete some task and telling me again how proud he is of me (and it's knowing that he thought of me in the middle of his work day to take time to write that note). It's the weeks and weekends he sets aside for our family to spend in Charleston or Chicago or Bloomington, all to ensure that despite living all over the place we still stay close as a family. It's sitting on our front porch with a glass of Malbec or my mom's sweet tea and talking about everything under the sun. It's seeing him curl his 6'1'' frame up on the floor to play with my niece and envisioning him doing the same with my kids one day.

My dad is my hero because throughout all of his successes, all of his business ventures, all of his many "titles" in the world outside our home, he never compromised his faith in the Lord and he never forgot his role as our dad. I'm so thankful for him.

Happy Birthday, Papa Bear! Thanks for never taking lightly your leadership over our family and the influence you had on each of our lives. I love you!