This morning, long before most folks get up, I found myself sitting on my recliner sipping a strong cup of joe…As I scanned my living room, I perceived many reminders of FAMILY. There were knickknacks, old black and whites of Oma and Opa, Some Christmas cards. Nothing out of the ordinary there. My eyes finally settling on a 10year old photo of my late Mom, and Dad. After giving myself a moment, I glanced at the large bookshelf, ( which my late Mom allowed me to pirate away from her home in Guelph, Ontario) . On it, was a very tattered and worn Bible. I have been guilty , all too often of not opening the Good book. Lately, however , things have taken a turn…Losing (temporarily), my Mom probably has been the catalyst, it seems, for my perusing, and meditating on its contents. The Bible in question, had belonged to my Granddad. He was probably the single most important male role model in my life. I have been gifted, in my life, with a plethora of willing and giving individuals that helped shape what I have become. Individuals, that because of a burden on their soul, took it upon themselves to invest in my future. I am indebted to every last one of them. Not a debt that I can repay, but an intangible one that effected my demeanor, my character, and my sense of Godly responsiblilty. Many of these stalwarts have gone on to their heavenly rest, some are still very much among us. I digress… In amongst the tattered pages of my Granddad’s bible were two leaflets:
What struck me was where Dad’s name appeared: Not as an usher, or guest vocalist, or even a best man. Dad had been entrusted with officiating a dear friend’s wedding, and at another paying tribute at the same dear friend’s wife’s memorial. I found it remarkable, because it spoke volumes about what dad meant to the individual(s). I have learned more in the last year, about appreciating my dad for what he is, NOT what he wasn’t. It has required a lot of soul searching, and heart wrenching self –examination. I haven’t the luxury of engaging in verbal discourse any longer with my Dad. We have had times together, (too few), but rich nonetheless in some father-son moments. I guess what I’m getting at is: I have garnered some wisdom , this past year, to appreciate what my Dad means to me, because of what he means to so many others. I have reconciled my admiration for him, for he put God, his place of worship and all others before himself. Humility, service, and devotion. Fruits of the spirit. Even though my heart aches for a real sit-down cuppa tea kind of tete a tete with Dad, I know that his example is what I can hold on to, and seek to emulate. The importance of telling your dad how you feel, like the songwriter said can only take place in the “living years”……Thanks Dad, I love you, Papa… 
Inbreadwecrust 