Happy Father's Day to the not the best Dad in the world.
Maybe that is what Father's Day cards should say, instead of the usual fake, shallow cards that say something like "Happy Father's Day to the best Dad ever!" I mean really? Most of us, if we are honest with ourselves (and our Dads) would admit that our Dad was probably not the best Dad ever. They aren't the worse Dad in the world. And sure, you love them a lot. They have great qualities to love. But can't we take the shallowness out of Father's Day just a little?
My Dad did his best. I loved him because of it. I respected him because of it. Looking back, I teased him way too much. And I don't mean as a kid. I tormented him after I became an adult. It was my way to get back at him for being such a grouch when I was growing up. His own Dad left him and his 10 siblings to half starve and freeze to death with their Mom. Their poor Mom did her very best. But how could a woman, especially back in the early to mid 1900s, feed 10 kids all by herself? She certainly didn't do it on welfare, like so many people today.
My Dad didn't abandon his wife or his five kids. My Dad went to work EVERY single day. He never called in sick (seriously, I never heard of him doing it). My Dad was a mailman and hated his job, but he brought every paycheck home and gave half to my Mom. With the rest he paid the bills and tried to save a little. He didn't drink. He didn't smoke. He didn't buy anything for himself. He didn't beat or abuse us kids, although he did give my brothers some needed spankings (my brothers were bigger than him since they took after my Mom's side).
My Dad and his first child-my brother.
My Dad and my nephew. After we were grown my Dad didn't want us to buy him anything. We would on Father's Day and holidays, but he didn't like it and would tell us not to spend our money.
My Dad was a huge Rush Limbaugh fan--enough said. One of my favorite things to do was stand at the door (ready to run) and say, "I bet you voted for Clinton!" To this day I haven't figured out if it made him so mad because he never would or he did and knew he screwed up.
My Dad really was into the O.J. Simpson trial (who wasn't?). After it was over, one of my other favorite ways to torment him was to stand at the door (again ready to run) and yell, "O.J. didn't do it!" My Dad had a quick temper, but he usually got over things quickly. But I would have to stay gone a while after that comment and let him cool down.
I'm 2nd to the left. My sister had the magazine. We were with our long-time neighbors, Mike and Sheryl. I grew up getting smacked if I said gosh, darn or butt. Mike's favorite thing to say was,"All I want for Christmas is a cup of bull s..." Still my Mom loved their Mom a lot. I do too, and still get to see her! I get Christmas cards from Sheryl. I'm not sure what Mike's Christmas card would say. : - )
Me and my siblings. I'm in the red looking prim and proper... with a smirk on my face.
My brother, little sister and me.
So, how did I know how to pick out the close to perfect Father for my kids since my Dad wasn't? I didn't. I think God did it for me, and probably because he wanted us to adopt 12 kids. But even though I think I picked out a pretty good Dad for my kids, my Grandpa (my Mom's Dad) was and still is my idle. He was sweet, kind, VERY giving and God fearing. My Mom's parents with my older sister.
My Dad and my Grandpa (my Mom's Dad). I'm in the white next to my sister, cousins and Aunt and Uncle. My sister in the greenish is the same age as my cousin in the yellow. I'm the same age as my cousin standing behind me. Our cousins were tall! We weren't. : - ( I like to say we are small boned. LOL
My Grandpa and my Dad on my Grandpa's farm in French Lick, Indiana. Look at all the wood for his wood stove.
My Mom's Dad--Earl Forrest. I named Boone after him-Boone Forrest.
My younger sister and me. We've always been best friends.
My Dad's Mom and his sister, who said I looked like her.
My Mom's parents holding hands! : - ) They really did have a wonderful marriage--nothing put-on about them.
My Dad's Mom and my older sister. I loved both my Grandmas. I didn't realize this Grandma was so poor until after she was gone. She had what is too lacking today-dignity.
My Dad and his siblings. His Mom is in the middle in the striped dress and white hair. My Dad is directly behind her to her right. My Grandma's 10th child died as a baby. His sister on the far right really was that tall. She told me she hated being tall--hard to understand. All the kids would say things like, "I saw my Dad once or twice."
"Honor your father and mother"--which is the first commandment with a promise.
"Honor your father and your mother, as the LORD your God has commanded you, so that you may live long and that it may go well with you in the land the LORD your God is giving you."
My Dad and his brothers. My Dad is with his brother in the middle photo on the right. They all looked and "acted" so much alike!
My Dad's mother--Maudie Ellen
My Mom in the left frame and her family on the right side.
My Mom's family.
And now, not through DNA, but with values passed on, my kids have to carry on.
However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me--the task of testifying to the good news of God's grace.
My Dad's brother-- Uncle Norman. He is the only one left out of the 10 kids. He is up in his 80s. I hope I'm like him at his age. FYI, my Dad died a Christian. He accepted Jesus about 10 years before he died-after his first stroke. I witness to Uncle Norman a lot! The first time I invited him to church he said, "I think I'll go once just to say I've been." He went. He remarked how much money our church must bring in. : - ) The other day I mentioned him accepting Jesus. He said, "How do you know I haven't?" : - )) I left it alone.