In honor of the Hallmark holiday, I thought I’d post a couple of pictures of my dad, and his dad.

My dad was the son of a farmer, and always called himself a farm-boy. One of his favorite movies became "A Princess Bride" because  he loved the story of a farm-boy turned pirate who was still just a farm-boy at heart in love with a princess. Mom was his Princess, and he used to say, "As you wish," ever time she asked him to do something — because, as the movie’s narrator said, "every time farm-boy said, ‘As you wish’ what he was really saying was, ‘I love you.’"

But he sure good lookin’ for a farm-boy! He could have given old Archie Leach (aka Cary Grant) a run for his money.

Here’s his dad, Jim (the farmer), with my sister when she was little.
I’m told he got to meet me, the namesake of his beloved wife, but I don’t remember him. He died when I was not even three. But grandpa, I’m told, was a man of quiet strength and quick wit. Things my dad obviously inherited.

Dad had a wonderful charm about him that endeared him to everyone who saw it. Of course, he also had his military side, and all us kids saw that side every time we misbehaved, which I did often (I can’t help it; I like to push the envelope!).

He wasn’t any kind of perfect. He stuffed his emotions more than he showed them; he struggled to balance his desire to preach the Word of God boldly with his complete distaste for the "fire and brimstone" sermons he grew up on, and lamented to me more than once that he felt he failed his men more often than not in giving them the truth straight up because he didn’t want to sound like the preachers of his past. And he was a perfectionist that was never satisified with himself or his children unless we’d done something near perfect.

But he was also a loving, generous, kind man who wept, well he’d say his "eyes watered"
when His children — especially this little one — returned to God. He was fiercely proud of all his kids, especially my sister Nina because of her huge heart and willingness to help anyone in need. He just didn’t know how to show it. He came from the generation where real men don’t show emotion and don’t give out a whole lot of compliments. He did his best to raise four very different, stubborn, energetic, dynamic children and give them all what he thought they needed for living a life of deep connection with God. Sometimes he failed and sometimes he succeeded.

For better or worse, I am my father’s daughter. I’m often told I look like him. I know I sometimes think like him (sometimes that good and sometimes not so much). I have some of his speech patterns too. I also seemed to have picked up his fierce love for the Southern Baptist
Convention, his strong aversion to politics and his desire to serve God in ministry. He and I used to talk for hours about missions, cultures and reaching the lost for Christ within the context of their own cultures. He and mom wanted to be missionaries with the FMB (now the IMB) and my sister Paula sometimes says that I was fulfilling their legacy by going overseas. I don’t know about that. But I do know I loved having a father that was just as passionate about the most important thing in my life as I was.

Oh, and I loved his hugs! He would let me just hang on forever. I think hugs are my love language and I could get all filled up by just standing in the kitchen holding onto my dad while he talked to mom about his day and she cooked dinner. I cherish those memories! I miss those hugs.

I miss my dad. But I know he doesn’t miss this earth. Sometimes, like holidays like today, I get very homesick for heaven.

Happy Father’s Day to every father out there. May God bless you this year as you struggle to live out your destiny and purposes the best way you know how. Yeah, you’re gonna leave some scars on your kid(s), there’s no way to avoid it. But don’t worry. It’s nothing that God can’t fix. May He grant you all wisdom, grace, and a wicked sense of humor.