Daddy, I remember seeing pictures
Of you taking care of me
In my little red wagon
With my box of raisins.
I remember Mama’s stories
Of how you would read to me
Even before words made pictures in my mind.
I remember sitting in your congregation.
I didn’t always understand the words,
But I could tell they were important.
Then one day I started understanding
And over the years I grew under your teaching.
I remember Saturday nights when you printed the Sunday bulletin
On the mimeograph machine in your study.
I can still hear the steady rhythm of the printing drum
And the swish of the paper being spit out.
I can still smell the sweet ink on the freshly printed pages.
I remember going roller-skating with you and the youth group.
You were taking care of me.
They played a couples song and
You asked me to dance.
I felt so special dancing with my Daddy.
Then my wheel got locked between your wheels.
We fell in a heap with me on the bottom.
I can still remember the ache of empty lungs trying to re-inflate,
But the memory of the pain is eclipsed by
The precious memory of dancing with my Daddy.
Daddy, I remember how you filled our home with music,
Carefully wiring speakers to the wall of the living room
So the strains of violins,
The smooth call of the horns,
And the beat of drums
could fill the air in quadrophonic sound.
Perhaps that’s the reason
Why my most productive thinking happens
With orchestral accompaniment, even now.
I remember your frequent travels
To far-away places where you ministered.
We always felt a bit lost when you were away.
Home wasn’t the same without you there.
Frequently things went wrong,
But God always protected and cared for us.
It was never as bad as it could have been.
Then you would come back
Bringing trinkets and more music to our lives,
And everyone was relieved.
Mama was always more relaxed
When you were with us.
Daddy, I remember the freedom you gave me
To read what I wanted to read.
You trusted me to make my own decisions
About the language I could tolerate,
Or the story-line.
A couple of times the books you shared
Turned out to be shocking
To my sheltered mind,
But you were teaching me.
I figured it out.
I remember your wise discipline.
You only gave me one spanking,
And that was through a full skirt.
(You had to.
I was creating an international incident
And Mama was not at home.)
You usually got my attention,
By the set of your jaw
And your look of disappointment,
But if sterner measures were called for,
You knew how to issue a proclamation
And put me under martial law.
With humor you loved me into healthy submission.
Daddy, I remember our times apart
When I moved away to college.
Telephone calls were dear and
Letters took a long time to arrive.
I missed you so.
You would write stories and jokes
To cheer me up.
Over the years it has been your laughter
And your good humor
And your positive approach to life
That has given me stability and direction.
Even now, your lessons
On the Way of Life - solid, relational, and godly,
Or the Way of Death - empty, chaotic, and isolating,
Teach me how to make good choices.
I just wanted you to know, I remember.
