Dad

The most enduring memory I have of my dad is his  voice.  It is distinct--deep and strong, like a foghorn cutting through the mist.  When I was little, I could pick my dad's voice out of any crowded room and knowing that he was near, I felt safe.  The notoriety of his voice was acknowledged among all my friends.  "What a loud, scary voice your dad has!"  But it wasn't scary to me.  It was the sound of love and acceptance and strength and fun.   It was the sound of laughter and songs sung and stories read and blessings given.  It was the sound of my dad.

My dad drives trucks for a living.  As a kid, when we rode in the car, I could be found on my dad's lap.  I would talk to him and listen to he and my mom talk back and forth and over time, I learned to drive while sitting there.   He taught me how to shift the gears and handle a long bed truck and by the time I got my learner's permit, it felt like I'd been driving my whole life.  Cars and trucks and driving.  That is the work of my dad.

My dad loved to read.  I remember him always with a book or a newspaper or scriptures in hand and our home overflowed with books.  I first began reading on my own at the age of 3, but I know that my dad read to me often before and after that achievement.  One of my favorite things was to sneak down early on Sunday mornings.  I knew my dad would be there reading the Sunday paper and I would take my own book or grab the comics and sit near him and just feel the camaraderie of two people reading together.  My own personal library was begun by my dad giving me books for my birthday and Christmas.  A love of reading is the gift of my dad.

When I was born, the first words out of my dad's mouth when he saw me were, "Oh no!  She looks like me!"   My mom quickly assured him this was not a negative and the oft-heard comment, "I could tell right away you were John's daughter" has always filled me with joy and pride.  In addition to his physical characteristics, I like to think that I am like him in his faith.  I have known, always known, that God was my Father, that He loved me, and that I needed to follow the example of my earthly father and have faith in my Heavenly Father and His Son.  Indeed, I have been born of goodly parents.  Believing in and following Heavenly Father and Christ is the faith of my dad.

There is a song that has always reminded me of my dad.  In tribute to my dad on this Father's Day, I include the lyrics here for him.  I love you, Dad!

An ordinary man,

He says he's nothing more than just an ordinary man,

And you might think you'd believe him,

though you'll never understand,

how love can flow so gentle from an ordinary man.

And there's magic in his touch,

When I'm sick or brokenhearted,

There is magic in the touch 

of his hand upon my head and when I hear his soft command,

I know that I have felt the special magic in his hands.

If the government could know his worth, I'm sure they'd raise his pay.

It's sad but true which we needed what a good man gets today.

He tells me I am beautiful, that I'm his Miss Universe.

I wish he wasn't taken, but my mother saw him first.

An ordinary man,

Still with his arms around me,

An extraordinary man when I'm heading straight for trouble,

And I'm leading with my chin,

He saves me from a crash by flashing me that knowing grin.

And if my Father up in Heaven is anything like him,

Then I would give the world to be with Him for all eternity,

And tell Him "thanks" for sending me to just an ordinary man.