Happy birthday Dad!

Today my father turns eighty (80) years old. I thought it would be fitting for me to write a bit about him for those of you who have never met him.  Dad grew up in Bull-Island, as it was known to the locals-- Poquoson to the rest of us.  I can only assume that ‘Bull-Island’ got its name because at some point in the past, there used to be a bunch of bulls kept down there.  Much like how we call the wildlife reserve down by the nuclear plant, “Hog-Island.”  My dad’s father was a shipyard worker, my grandmother a teacher early on but lived most of her life as a domestic engineer, raising dad and his siblings.  Dad was the oldest followed by a brother five years later and then a sister five years after that.  He was raised in what I assume was a typical post-WWII home, loving, caring, nurturing.  He married a lady from his high school— Annette Moore.  They had grown up in the same church family though I don’t really think they were high school sweethearts.  As the old saying goes, he definitely married above himself!  At some point early in life dad became a Christ follower and into his late teens and early twenties he felt led to pursue vocational ministry— dad would go on to serve as a pastor/missionary his entire life.

Dad and me

While in seminary and soon after, he would give leadership to three churches, Beech Grove, Coinjock and Sawyer’s Creek--a few years at each.  I remember him sharing with me how hard it was to lead churches where people had no desire to change.  He almost left vocational ministry while at one of those churches because he felt like he would not survive the emotional discouragement.  While serving at Sawyer’s Creek dad and mom both felt leadership from the Lord to serve as missionaries and with their three very young sons in tow, they headed for Montevideo, Uruguay.  They would spend the next twenty years serving there.

I know my parents didn’t go south for their children, but I’ll always be grateful for the upbringing I received, having been raised on foreign soil.  There are so many lessons I learned, so many skills I developed, so many friends I received.  Having been raised in Latin America, I believe I received a view of the world that I might not have had I lived in North Carolina all my life, but truly those are just speculative thoughts.

Dad and mom went to Uruguay to do youth work but that never really materialized.  Dad would end up being a theology teacher, pastor and counselor for most of his time there.  We returned to Uruguay two years ago, my parents and my brothers and I, and it was extremely encouraging as we gathered with this great crowd of witnesses who came to tell my father how much his life had impacted them. I saw tears on my father’s face as people shared with him how his life and words had added so much value to theirs.  He had led some of them to follow Jesus but all of them talked about how he had loved them and helped them.

They returned to the United States in the late 1980’s and dad finished his ministry career by serving as the pastor of several churches before his retirement.   None of those experiences would ever top the blessing he received serving in that small Latin American country.  Today he turns eighty and I want to say how much I love and appreciate him.  My dad taught me many things over the last five decades of my life— let me share three with you.

My father taught me that we were all sinners and not to judge others by their sin.  Nothing people told him shocked him and his goal was always to help them leave their sin behind.  He showed me what love without condemnation looks like; what it means not to judge others.  He helped nationals, missionaries, and even sought to help people who didn’t know Christ.

He taught me how to love in marriage and be committed to its permanence.  Now don’t misunderstand--Dad could have and should have helped my mother much more.  I always joke that dad never changed a diaper— and unfortunately that may not be a joke!  But growing up it was obvious my father loved my mother, and she him.  They were playfully affectionate around us.  They were kind.  I never heard them raise their voices or even argue.  (Of course that may be because my mom is a saint!) They locked their bedroom door at night.  I didn’t know what that meant then but I know today they had a healthy marriage in every way.  I’ll never be able to thank my dad and mom for giving us the healthy family we had to grow up in.  And my parents stayed together.  Through thick and thin.  They showed me that marriage is what maintains the love, not the other way around.

Dad at 75

My dad taught me what it means to be a man.  He invested in me.  He instructed me verbally and modeled many good things.  I’ll never forget dad writing me a letter when I first went to college.  He emancipated me with his words.  He declared me a man and said from that point on I needed to act like a man.  He was there to be my friend, to advise me, to help me, but I needed to take responsibility for my life.  Honestly, it was a bit scary but I guess it’s not unlike a parent bird throwing the baby bird out of the nest saying, “Fly or die!”  But dad knew I was ready to fly.  He had taught me over the years responsibility, work ethic, family values, and what really ultimately matters in life.

It might be easy to think, because of what I’ve written, that dad was perfect, that he made no mistakes.  Like all of us who have parented, dad made plenty.  But the mistakes don’t often overpower or erase the good we managed to do.   So dad, if you read this, I just want you to know I’ll always be grateful to you.  I owe you so much.  I am not solely the man I am due to your influence, but yet I recognize that much of who I am came from what I learned from you while under your care.  Happy birthday dad!