18 June 2011

Happy Father's Day, Dad!

Since I have been so careless as to neglect to send my dad a card on Father’s Day, I decided that I would make it up by writing a tribute to him. We writers always think we can get away with cheap things like that. Sometimes it works.
I don’t want to tell my dad’s life story, or give you a character sketch. Rather, I want to tell you about one little incident that I have remembered for years—because in that incident, my dad showed me a small picture of the kind of Father that our Heavenly Father is to his children. Thank you, Dad!
I was almost 13 when my family was re-roofing our garage. It wasn’t the first roof I’d worked on: earlier that summer I’d helped work on my grandparents’ roof when it had to be re-done and I’d loved it! I was having fun working on the garage roof too, although this roof was significantly steeper than the one I’d worked on before. We were still taking off the old shingles and the old nails. One side of the roof had been completely cleared of shingles, and I was working by myself on that side, using my hammer to pull out any nails that were still sticking up from the boards of the roof.
Now, anyone who has worked on a roof before knows that roofs are far more treacherous and slippery when you are trying to walk on bare boards rather than the rough shingles. At one point, the roof became too slippery for me, and I started to slide down. There wasn’t much to hold onto, but I dug my fingertips into a crack between the boards to stop myself from falling. There, I was in a quandary. I tried to pull myself up, but I couldn’t. I was stuck, with my feet hanging off of the edge of the garage, hanging on only by the tips of my fingers and by whatever forces of friction I could muster. Still, I knew I couldn’t stay there long. The garage is a small one, and it would only be about an eight foot drop to the ground from the roof. Still, we were in the process of tearing off shingles, and I had no desire to fall onto a pile of broken shingles and rusty nails. It occurred to me to call for help. Dad and Mom were working on the other side of the garage roof. “Dad!” I yelled as calmly as I could, “I’m going to fall!”
That got his attention right away, and he quickly got off the roof, and ran to where I was hanging on as tightly as I could.
                “Okay, let go!” he said. I didn't feel all too sure about letting go...after all, what if I fell so hard that he couldn't catch me? What if we both ended up falling down among the shingles and nails? I was nervous, but I didn't really have much choice, so I let go of the roof. He caught me! Where I would have fallen, my Dad heard my cry for help, and was able to rescue me.
                The Psalms are peppered with verses where David cries out to the Lord, confident that God is the only One who can and will save him in his times of adversity. When I think about this simple story in my life, where I was able to cry out and be rescued from a bad situation by my father, I am able to think of how much more power my Heavenly Father has to rescue me when I cry to Him in my need.
                When I was a child, I learned a song based on these verses, which are good reminder of the power our Heavenly Father has to protect those who are His:

Psalm 91:14-16
“Because he loves me,” says the LORD, “I will rescue him;
 I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.
He will call on me, and I will answer him;
 I will be with him in trouble,
 I will deliver him and honor him.
With long life I will satisfy him
and show him my salvation.”
Yinz said...


Mrs. Bennett Has Class said...

What a lovely tribute to your dad! It had to be bonding, working together as a family. We have our best family moments when we are all chipping in to get something done {especially housework/yard work}.