MEMORIES OF OUR FATHER

 

MEMORIES OF OUR FATHERS

 

On Father’s Day, my wife and I found ourselves reflecting on the impact our fathers had on our lives. We were raised on two different islands in the Caribbean, in a variety of different circumstances. However, we had one thing in common – we were influenced by men who cared.

As a child, I accompanied my dad on an early morning business trip. He was to receive payment for constructing a horse-drawn cart. Although he had an appointment, the wealthy client took enough time to visibly ignore my father. My father was obviously humiliated as he returned to the car where I witnessed everything. Dad was emotionally crushed. However, he never attempted to compete with the undignified behavior of his client. He probably thought it was more important to model meekness before his twelve-year old son.

Even as a child, my wife’s Jamaican step grandfather called her Miss Launa. On Sunday mornings he would take her to church on his bicycle. The five-mile journey included a hill. She recalls being placed on the bar of the bike as he pushed her up the hill. At times the church deacon would remove his black woolen jacket before entering the modest sanctuary. Little did my wife know that the Ira D. Sankey songs she learned at that church would shape her life. One of the songs that brought this six-year-old to tears was “I’ll Be Somewhere Listening to my Name”.

For me, May 26, 1963, was historic. It was in Trinidad on that quiet Sunday afternoon, my Dad piloted my journey of faith. He and Mom had just completed a series of discipleship interviews. I interrupted their closing procedures to announce my faith commitment. Dad picked-up that my intended announcement was more the quest of a seeker. I could still see the sides of his large Bible resting on his crossed legs. Mom got into a familiar posture, chin on chest while she prayed. Fifty-nine years later, I can confirm that God is still in the transformation business. That decision to become a Christian has affected my career, life-companion, worldview and friendships.

Launa and I cannot stop talking about the care of our fathers. The care was both for us, the immediate family and the community. Launa’s Dada owned land in rural Jamaica. He planted every fruit tree imaginable. He owned and slaughtered animals. She had a fruitful upbringing. It was Dada’s caring spirit that pulled him out of bed on September 01, 1957. For several hours he was helping the hundreds of passengers on the Kendal train crash. He assisted in sorting the bodies of some of the 175 persons who died in Jamaica’s worst transport accident.

We were both humbled with the generosity of my Dad in Trinidad. Forty-nine years ago we got married in Jamaica and moved to Trinidad to serve in Christian ministry. My Dad anticipated the housing challenges we would be facing as a young couple in ministry. On arrival in Trinidad we were offered a two-bedroom apartment. That generous display of thoughtfulness continues to benefit us. That home became a balm for many who were in pain and a place of rest for travelers.

Because of the leadership provided, we could never imagine taking stolen goods home. Our Dads were not known for intellectual ability, but you could not want more principled and godly men. We still chuckle when we recall an event in Trinidad. My Dad was introducing Launa to an old friend. We heard him say, “meet my daughter and son-in-law”. Yes, it was slip of the tongue, but it was a reflection of his heart. He received Launa as his own daughter.

What are your memories of the father figures in your life? Or, you might want to grapple with my question, “what memories am I leaving with those I influence as a father-figure”?