Happy Father's Day to the Men in My Life

I had the greatest dad growing up. All morning my thoughts have been filled with great memories of him:

• riding in the metal basket on the back of his bike
• sledding with him on the steep slope where Timpview Highschool now stands
• watching him build clever carrying cages so I could take various pets to Show-and-Tell
• watching him till the garden with a big one-wheeled cultivator, plotting out the vegetables mathematically
• listening to him whistle under his breath and click his tongue as he thought (and he was a powerful thinker)
• watching him carve a bar of soap into a tiny cage with two balls rattling inside it
• listening to him play the harmonica, piano, and guitar (sometimes two simultaneously)
• coming downstairs on a Saturday morning to find classical music on the radio and Dad making waffles in the kitchen
• Dad helping me with my math homework, always patient even when I bawled and whined
• seeing my dad dance my mom around the kitchen (they were practicing the Salty Dog Rag for a show)
• watching him crank the wooden-handled hand mixer when Mom was making bread
• paddling hard in the front of the canoe, only to turn around and find Dad not paddling, because he'd gotten caught up in observing some wild bird
• the time Dad compared me to the pear tree growing outside my bedroom window, strong in the sunlight
• people bringing us a fruit basket at Christmas because my dad was the Bishop (and for the first time getting an inkling that other people thought my dad was special too).

Now Dad is in England with Mom, serving the Lord on a one-year mission. This is their second mission, the first being in Hungary, and I am continually impressed with their adaptability, humility, and willingness to serve. And not many people would try to tackle learning Hungarian in their 70s! Dad is the type of person who is always curious about the world and eager to learn new things.

When I married I purposely looked for a husband who was a lot like my dad. I wanted someone who could use both his hands and his head, who valued education, someone patient and gentle and devout. And I found such a person. And made him go be interviewed by my dad before I'd agree to marry him. They both survived the event, which told me I was on the right track.

Now I see my son raising his little girl, and I see the same sweetness and gentleness, the same willingness to work hard and do whatever it takes to care for the child entrusted to him. She is building her own memories of her dad, and I believe they will be as treasured as mine.