The Right Tough

Late this afternoon Dave and I returned from a weeklong visit with my family in Georgia.  Over the next few days I’ll be unpacking not only my luggage but also a huge load of memories. Dave decided to work out the kinks of sitting in the car by cutting the grass while I am starting deal with all the dirty clothes we accumulated.  Thankfully my memory pile is much larger than my laundry pile, so I have lots of things to share.  Here is one of  them.

A couple of nights ago, my Dad, Dave and I were sitting on my parents’ front porch enjoying the cool of the evening watching the comings and goings of the birds at their feeders and chatting about all kinds of things, past, present and future.  Unexpectedly, a rain shower popped up, interrupting our bird watching and changing the tenor of the conversation.

As the rain drops rhythmically tapped on the porch roof, Dad began to recall his role as a young father with a sad note of regret.  He said he’d wished he hadn’t been so hard on us kids.  It made me sad to think he thought he had failed as a father in any way.  He has always been the epitome of what a dad should be.

I guess I never thought of my Dad as tough.  I saw him as a man with high expectations for his children and the expectations were more about core values than personal success.  There was never any ambiguity about how any of us were expected to behave and there was little or no bartering.  He and Mom were in charge.  Honestly, I don’t know how else they could have managed so many of us.  The lack of clear leadership would have resulted in bedlam!

Dad worked hard for his family, putting aside his own needs and wants to ensure we were all properly cared for.  One year he skipped his lunch for months to save enough money to buy four of us bikes for Christmas.  I never knew this until the other night, but it is an example of what kind of father he was to us.

My dad could fix anything; plumbing, electrical stuff, carpentry.  He even built a large addition to our home.  In fact, the only time I can recall our ever calling a repairman into our home was when the television went on the blink.  In my wee youth, TVs were full of long glass tubes and every once in a while, one would blow and our local repairman, Junior would come out to the house with a couple of large black cases full of tubes and a bright light he’d position in the back of the set to help him diagnose the problem once he removed the back of the set.  As a five-year old, it was a sight to see!

From watching my Dad at work around the house, I learned so many things that most women my age don’t.  I not only know the names of the basic tools in  a household toolbox, but I can and have used most of them more than once.  As long as I have directions, I have confidence I can tackle most household repairs.  These days I prefer not to, having gone down more than one rabbit hole on a plumbing project, but nonetheless, if need be, I can thanks to my dad.

Most of all, my dad has proved his love and devotion for our family in countless ways, no more so than in the sharing of a marriage with my mom which has lasted more than 60 years.  Modeling a loving marriage for us has been a precious gift.

Yeah, my dad was tough on us.  He loved us, sheltered us, fed us, clothed us, and chauffeured us to umpteen million activities.  He taught us how to talk to people with respect, how to behave, how to discern wants from needs, how to solve problems and how to work for something you really want.  In return, he expected us to be honest, well-behaved and helpful.

Many years ago while attending a workshop at church, I heard a priest make the comment that a person’s view of God is in large part shaped by what kind of father they have.  In this respect, I know just how lucky I’ve been to have John Farner as my dad.  My dad’s example has allowed me to see God as loving, kind, approachable, giving, forgiving, funny and constant. Because of the unconditional love he has shown me, I can accept the God’s loving embrace as naturally as I can one from my dad.

Honestly Dad, if you were tough on me, I just don’t remember it that way.  I know I wouldn’t have become the person I am today without the guidance I received from you and Mom.  I suppose you used the right amount of tough because whenever I think about growing up in our home, all I ever remember is how much you loved me and how much I loved you.  And I still do.  XOXOXOXO!