by Joanie Butman
My dad is 94 and suffers from dementia. It’s heartbreaking to watch this man who was always larger than life slowly fade away. Yet, there are hints of his former self that still shine through. He hasn’t lost his sense of humor or the infamous twinkle in his eyes. He may believe he dated Ingrid Bergman or been a famous singer performing for enormous crowds, but in reality his greatest achievement was the loving relationships he created and maintained all his life, not the least of which was his life-long relationship with God.
We all carry the influence of our dads. Whether you had a great dad, a not-so-great dad, or even no dad, his presence or lack thereof has a life-long impact whether we choose to acknowledge it or not. It’s funny. The things that sometimes have the most impact are ones they may not have thought important at all. For instance, my love of the theatre began with my dad taking us to occasional Saturday morning plays as a way to give my mom a break. His tradition of taking the brood of us to a Broadway show every Christmas season lasted well into my adulthood. Unfortunately, there always seemed to be a big playoff game on the same day. As an avid sports fan he was not to be denied, so he would sit in the theater listening to the game through headphones. One of the last shows we saw was Fifth of July (a heavy drama about a gay paraplegic Vietnam vet). Christopher Reeve was delivering his intense soliloquy when the Giants scored the winning touchdown. My father jumped out of his seat and screamed. I’m not sure whether it was that incident or our growing numbers that eventually put an end to the tradition. Regardless, we had a good run.
I’ve inherited a lot of things from my dad – some good and some not so good, like my driving skills. There are many things I admire about him, but his devotion to family, sense of fun, ability to laugh at himself, and his penchant for remembering only good times have got to be at the top of my list. Without a doubt, though I didn’t appreciate it growing up, the most important example my dad set for me was the way he lived out his faith.
A friend of mine, after meeting my dad years ago, sent me a note saying, “When I look into your father’s eyes, I see Jesus.” Wow, in the middle of Swanky Franks? Who would’ve guessed? Oddly enough people have commented on his eyes before. It made me wonder what people see when they look in my eyes. Did I inherit my father’s eyes? As a Christian, the answer to that question is a resounding “YES!” Seeing the world from God’s perspective is part of our inheritance as is His legacy of love – if we choose to claim it. In turn, our lives are meant to be lived in such a way that reveals that love to others. I believe that’s what my friend saw in my dad’s eyes, and like the Christian singer Amy Grant, I pray that someday others will say the same about me.
When people look inside my life,
I want to hear them say
She's got her father's eyes
Her father's eyes
Eyes that find the good in things
When good is not around
Eyes that find the source of help,
when help just can't be found
Just like my father's eyes
As I mentioned, my father’s example of a faith-directed life laid the foundation, but I had to build my own relationship with my heavenly Father. Getting to know someone is always the first step in developing a deep, lasting relationship, which is why I choose to study the Bible. It’s God’s love letter to us, and it speaks to each of us in different ways at different times. Any knowledge I attained would all be for naught though if I didn’t choose to spend time with Him every day. It’s no different than developing and maintaining relationships with our earthly fathers.
We aren’t all fortunate to be blessed with fathers who share their faith, or even gentle, tender-hearted fathers who shower us with love. Nevertheless, we all have access to a heavenly Father who wants to do just that, who values each one of us and is waiting for us to share those things we tend to keep hidden from everyone else. It’s our choice to determine the depth and breadth of that relationship. Years ago, my dad confided that his biggest fear about dementia was that he’d forget God. I always assured him, “Maybe you will, Dad, but He will never forget you!."
I’m with my father today, but he won’t understand the zoom celebration we’ve planned. His world plays out on the set of Casablanca these days. Even so, that won’t stop us from sharing our love and fond memories. Thank you, Dad, for always being there when I needed you - and especially when I didn't think I did. Happy Father’s Day!
I wrote that last line for Big Lou, as my dad is affectionately called. However, when I read it, I realized it also sounds like an excellent prayer for today, so I will end it accordingly with a heartfelt "Amen!"
