Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. ~ Romans 5:3-5
A year ago today, I went to bed knowing that my father was dying. In his late eighties, he had battled numerous life-threatening ailments over about three years. Up to that point, Dad was the hardest working man I ever knew. Many people work long hours and pay the price for success, but he wasn’t among them. Dad always put his family first. He was well known for his work ethic and devotion to family, faith, and friends. Dad was gregarious and generous with his time and resources. He was always willing to help his kids, grandchildren, and friends with projects. In his retirement years, which came a little early because he chose family over career, he worked several part-time jobs. They all started as favors to friends who valued Dad’s exceptional business acumen. He worked at his last job up to a few days before his passing. His love language was sacrificial service. Dad gave of himself in a Christlike manner that warrants admiration.
Like most of us, Dad had his demons to battle. He chose to go in a radically different family rearing direction than what he had known from his father. Therefore, it was unexplored territory. While learning about himself, his wife, and his children, he navigated through unforeseeable circumstances and struggled to find the correct response when faced with areas where he wasn’t naturally gifted. In one of his written retirement musings, Dad described the ominous sounds of a troopship plying the North Sea as icebergs deflected from the hull. I think marriage and parenting were often like that for him. When he felt insecure or lacked confidence, Dad plowed through the icebergs.
As Dad’s fourth child, I presented him with numerous opportunities for testing and at a time when many stressors passed through his life. He valued outward signs of his moral standards and disdained indications that he might be failing. If I walked a half-mile to the bus stop to meet him after a long day at work in the city, it reflected well to his friends on the bus, and I was loved and praised. If I acted silly, loud, and rambunctiously in a public setting, it embarrassed him, and he projected that shame on me. Anything that affirmed his fear of failure brought negativity. Dad often battled depression and anxiety, and it created strain in our home up to the days before his death. Nevertheless, his love was apparent most often, and his sacrificial service was consistent. Dad’s usually good nature was best known through his relentless sense of humor. He often said that good comedy came down to good timing . . . Sometimes, his timing was better than at others.
A year ago, when my mother called to tell me that Dad died, I immediately thought, “Dad’s in Heaven now, and he is understanding himself and others in a new way as he walks in the LORD’s presence.” My dad’s spiritual life was rich, and I often say that he was the best example of Catholic Christianity I ever knew. Like all of us, my dad carried a lifetime of psychological and physical scars that impede natural movement. Freed from those, Dad now experiences God’s grace to the fullest extent. He now enjoys shameless life and unfiltered light.
I remember a day long ago when my dad and his good friend, Sam, and I worked all day fixing some significant problems in Dad’s father’s house. We eventually stood by my invalid grandfather’s bed to say goodbye before returning to our home hundreds of miles away. Dad and Pop, both men who were uncomfortable with expressing feelings, looked at each other for several seconds. It seemed to me that Pop was trying to project regret and appreciation, maybe love. Dad may have been thinking similarly. I don’t know. But, if his love language of sacrificial service spoke then too, I’d say he found the grace to forgive and love his old man.
In the passage above, the Apostle says that God pours His love into us. He also says our sufferings produce character. Therefore, it is not uncommon for one, deeply loved, to suffer trials and temptations that strengthen his personality. It is most evident in the largely unseen moments of genuine compassion for self and others.
I, too, have chosen a different path of self-care, marriage, and parenting. At times it is not so far from my father’s way. Sometimes, it is radically different. Even so, I am grateful for all the ways that God blessed me through my parents, especially today, my dad. Today, I choose to remember what I will miss the most while I wait to see him again. I prefer to reflect on all the positive ways he helped shape me into a man after God’s own heart.
