A Chip Off The Old Rock

On Friday, April 27, went to see an old friend that I have known for most of my life. His name is Sam. Not only is he a friend of mine, but when my father was living, he was a very good friend of my dad. You see, Sam is a very skilled automotive mechanic, and an honest Christian man. We were not the richest family around, monetarily speaking, so my parents couldn't afford to have new cars. That is where Sam came in, he helped keep our cars running so my parents could have reliable transportation. Anyway, when I entered his shop, his secretary commented how much I looked like my dad. Sam reiterated her comment when he came in from the garage a few minutes later. Then he made the comment that there has never been another pastor like my dad. For twenty-seven years my dad had been the pastor at the same church in this small community. Under his leadership, the small church grew from twenty or so to over three hundred; this was in a town with a population of one thousand and six residents at the time. During his time at the church, there was a restoration program for the old worship center and basement, and there were two large additions including a gymnasium, fellowship hall, and additional Sunday School classrooms added. When I was a teenager, I didn't particularly like it when someone said how much I looked like my dad: Probably because I was seeking out my own identity. But now, being older, I really appreciate the comment from those who knew him. He became my rock, my go to guy: When I had a problem or needed guidance, he was there. I now seek to capture the qualities that made him a great man not only in the home but in the community and in the church. I realize not only do I have an outward appearance resembling my dad, but also desire to develop an inward resemblance of him.

My dad has been physically gone for nineteen years. There probably isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of him and the lasting effect he had on my life. He not only taught me lessons about life, he lived them out for me to observe in real life situations. I wish my daughters could have known him and he would have had a chance to see them grow and mature into young ladies. I don't understand why he had to die when he did...why he couldn't have lived longer? All I know is, at the time of his death, I didn't have anything left unsaid. Perhaps that is the reason my period of grief was short lived. Yea, I miss him, he will never come back to me, but I will go to him later.

I hope I am able to have the kind of effect on my children that my father had on me. If I do, then I will be "A Chip Off The Old Rock."