Thougths About My Dad

When I was in my early twenties, I did not yet really have a sense of who I was. It would take me a decade to figure that all out. But I was in my early twenties when I lost my Dad. As the child without a fully formed identity, I had not yet started to relate to him as an adult, and that has always been a great regret in my life. When he died in an automobile accident, he was in his early fifties. He also was a United Methodist minister. There are so many things I wish I knew about him, but as an adult, I never got a chance to ask.

My parents had a pretty turbulent marriage, at least some of the time. When one is a child and feels in the middle of all that, you tend to think that somebody must be the good guy and somebody must be the bad guy. I could never figure out who that was. As an adult, of course, I now know the deeper subtleties and sadnesses and paradoxes of life. They probably both had insecurities and issues, as we all do. But truthfully, the emotional baggage of my parents' chaotic marriage caused some distance between them and me. I always felt like the little girl lost in the shuffle.

My Dad has been gone now for over forty years, so I don't think of him all that often. I lost my mother much more recently.

My Dad's ministry was cut short and he was still a relatively young man when he died. My call to ministry was later in life, unlike his. He started off in his twenties, both going to seminary and having a family at the same time.

Although I certainly would not have thought about it that way when I felt called, perhaps in some strange, circular, providential way, God's call in my life completes my father's. Who knows? Maybe there is a direct connection between the twenty years I have enjoyed in ministry and the ones he missed out on. That thought has occurred to me.

His ministry in Mississippi in the forties through the sixties, and mine in New York in the 20th and 21st century could not be more different. Radically different context, culture, geography, era. However, same Gospel. Same Lord!

I suppose one really never outgrows being the child when it comes to your parents. Still, to this day, the prevailing thought I have about my father is----I hope he is proud of me!