Papa Tom & Ella - 2008
There is this message that pops up from time to time at Church. It is the idea that God is the perfect father, full of compassion, truth, grace, mercy, love and peace. We are taught that he wants to extend all of this to us in the form of an intimate relationship, and that he wants us not to think of him in the formal term, as "father", but instead, to think of him as "Abba", or rather "daddy".
When I hear this message, I never really know where to "put it". I guess that's becacause I feel like my "dad" bucket is already very full with all the things they are describing. When they explain God as this gentle, loving and forgiving person, I can't help but picture you.
Of course, before your ego explodes, or you faint from expectations placed upon you, I should clarify that I'm not saying you are God, I'm just noticing that as a father, you have done a lot of things right. I don't know if you meant to, but you did a great job.
I've met people, had friends and such, who didn't have a full bucket when it came to dad. In fact, they didn't even have a bucket at all. I guess they did in a way, but it was rusted out, and very empty. Or sometimes it would fill up a little, only to be kicked over unexpectedly. But not my bucket, no. My bucket is shiny, overflowing, and in a way, I almost don't know why I have it, why I of all people, have been so blessed. It seems as though I get to have an extra bucket, one for God, a pefect heavenly father, and one for you, my perfect dad right here.
The truth is, when I think of a perfect father, you are the image that comes to mind. Sure, we all pick on you for the pace at which you eat. I mean, pails, or rather, buckets, are filling and overflowing with sap in Vermont, while you eat a single bite of spaghetti, but I digress, which by the way, I think I get from you. I think you should know, there is a trend out there right now for people who chew there food hundreds of times per bite, might be worth looking into. And of course, you are a meandering kind of talker. You made an entire sales career out of talking. Talking about your family, talking about your kids, talking about golf, and talking about pretty much whatever you or the doctors with whom you spoke felt like talking about. Whether or not you talked much about pharmaceuticals didn't seem to matter. They knew you knew your stuff, and they LOVED you. In fact, everybody who meets you just LOVES you because you are so YOU. Just look at your grandkids, they light up, and can't get enough of Papa Tom.
When I was growing up, you never missed an important event, and even when you would come home exhausted and stressed out, knowing that after dinner, bedtime and bath time you would be headed to your basement office to do MORE paperwork, you were still enthusiastic and thrilled to hear ALL about our day. And I don't mean you pretended to care. You really listened, made eye contact, asked questions, and let out loud excited statements like "All right!!" and "Way to go!", and then grabbed us with your giant paws in an embrace to let us know how proud you were. From you, I learned I was was worthy of love.
Sometimes, I pushed your buttons, and I remember one of the few spankings you gave me. The obligatory warning was offered, but I chose to push just one more button, and then attempted to scoot up the stairs laughing. As I climbed the second step, you gave me a quick little slap on the bottom. For an instant, we made eye contact, and then I burst into tears. It wasn't because you spanked me and it hurt, because honestly, as far as spankings go, it felt like nothing. It wasn't because you spanked me and I felt guilty for acting out. Nope. The reason I cried was because of the look on your face. In your eyes, you said "I'm so sad that I had to do that". From you, I learned the importance of following through, even when it's hard. From you, I learned to respect authority.
At every dance recital, swim meet, soccer game, basketball game, gymnastic meet, you were there. In fact, I know you were there, because the sound from the dinosaur camcorder that pressed into your shoulder has forever recorded all of your cheering and shouting. I can hear you smiling when I watch those old videos. From you, I learned I was worthy of praise.
In middle school and high school when mom and I would shop for dresses, we would always pick two, and bring them home for you to make the final choice, because you had the best taste. Your opinion meant EVERYTHING. You would always tell me that both dresses were beautiful, but there was always one that would look more "elegant", or "classy" as you would put it, and when you saw that dress, your expression would soften. I would wait to hear the words, "Oh Lizzy, that is an elegant dress", and my decision would be made. From you, I learned to value my appearance.
Dad, I have always known one thing was true about you and me, and that was the fact that you are my biggest fan. I have not even come close to doing everything perfectly. I have stressed you out beyond belief, and I have disappointed you, but you have never judged me or made me feel unworthy. You have always been able to find the balance between truth and grace - showing me the truth of my failings and your feelings about them, and then showing me grace and forgiveness, so that I know that I am loved. You are genuine, sincere, wise and always, always loving.
Thank you for all that you have given me, but mostly thank you for your example as a parent. It's been the greatest gift of all as I navigate my own adventures in parenting. I love you. Happy Fathers Day!
Love,
Lizzie
