3 things + a question: On a Father's Influence

Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive. Howard Thurman

Three things I thought about this Fathers Day:

1. Be who you are. That's who you're meant to be.

This year my 3 brothers and I celebrated our first Fathers Day without Dad. I couldn't call him up and say, "Hey Pop, how are you?" I missed his cheerful greeting across the years of "Good, of course. How else would I be doing?" I also missed his weary "like an old man" of the last 2 years, after an accident derailed his health.

It was my brother Will's birthday last week. We got to catch up. He, like my other brothers, is a very good father. Of course, like every generation, they try not to do the things they didn't like about their upbringing. Our dad was a great role model, a man of his time.

Mom and Dad were lifelong lovers. He always boosted Mom and extended our respect of him to respecting her.

She and talked last week about the "out of the box" instructions Dad gave us, right to the end of his life. He never wanted her or his kids to be smaller than God made us. However, he never demanded that we be bigger than we could be.

He never compared us to others. He liked his three sons and me as people and was proud of us as his kids. The older I get, the more I realize what special gifts his advice and approval were.

Dad truly modeled meekness, the recognition of each person's importance in God's master plan. He wanted us to try everything we thought was interesting and find our unique place. "God made you the way you are for a reason," he'd say to my brothers and me. "Don't try to be someone else."

"You can always quit if you don't like it," he told us and his grandkids as we were applying for this and that job.

One summer, I got fired as a restaurant server. But that wasn't the defining experience for me. The firing is not what I remember. Rather, I will never forget my dad's response.

I had been working at a government rest-stop during the summer break and just hated it. I couldn't keep orders straight, chit-chatted too long with one table and gave the wrong order to another. The line cooks in the kitchen screamed at the servers when we asked for minor changes to the meals. I was surrounded by hung-over staff and isolated by my values and beliefs. I dreaded going to work and looked forward to my days off.

I drove the 2 hours home one day and surprised my parents, who asked, "Aren't you working today?"

"I just got fired." I was upset, considering a good cry. Dad took one look at me, stopped to listen to my sad tale, and said, "Well, I guess God didn't design you to be a waitress." Then he walked out of the room.

That was that. The weight of failure lifted off my shoulders. I never forgot his acceptance - or the freedom of quitting without his judgment or humiliation. (I also never forgot how many skills it takes to be a server. Yes, leave him/her a good tip!)

2. Hang around with people who value you, more than with people who keep trying to change you.

Dad told us over and over not to pay attention to those who tried to drag us down, belittle us, or lessen God's plans for us. I'd complain at the dinner table: "He told me I'm too bossy." Or, "She is jealous because I'm dating her cousin." Or, "So-and-so told me that X doesn't like me."

I could tell my parents anything. But the responses differed: sympathy from Mom, and something completely different from Dad.

"Big deal. What are you listening to them for?" he'd say if I repeated a snarky remark or verbal jab by a peer. "What does s/he know about anything? Has his/her family amounted to anything?" 

Sometimes he's say, "Well, are they right?" Either way, the conversation would be over as far as he was concerned. And I'd think, "Yup, a good way to think about it, Pop."

When one boss told me my ideas were stupid, my girlfriends reacted in horror. "How could he say that? Right to your face? Didn't you cry?" (Nope.) Dad's reaction to a slam was usually a shrug. "Was it [a bad idea]?" He was fair and kept knee-jerk reactions separate from competence and what we could learn from a situation.

(My response? Leave the office to think it over. Maybe my boss was in a lousy mood or needed more info. If it wasn't a good fit for his team, I wouldn't have their support. He could see that before I did so I never took the abruptness as a personal insult.)

Yet Dad never was rude. He never tore people down even when he told the truth. He taught us to take criticism as well as praise. Others' perceptions were just that: their view. But it was worth paying attention either way.

3. Failure is a great teacher, especially if you're creative, innovative, or doing something no one has yet tried.

Dad was a risk-taker. He loved trying new things. He learned to fly, to scuba-dive, to invest in others, and travel the world. He liked being on the ground floor when he could see potential, though he was quickly bored with management. He followed his interests and developed skills to be good at a lot of things, from sales, owning a steel works company, success in real estate, to repairing violins after retirement.

His trust didn't always pay off when he mixed business with friendship. Once or twice, "a friend" upended everything he'd worked for. He hated a lack of integrity or breaches of agreement, whether verbal or written. He would get out if someone was dishonest. His word was his bond even to his own hurt.

I remember him reflecting on a business crash when I asked if he was ok.

"Well, once a liar, always a liar," he said. "That friend wasn't trustworthy. I kept my part of the partnership but I should have realized sooner that he wasn't a good person." He had regrets about the harm caused to others, more than the dismantling of his own wealth. He moved on. But he didn't give that person a second chance. 

"You might learn the hard way, but you only have to learn it once," he told us. We watched and learned.

That was my dad. I miss his cheerleading. I miss his observations, especially because he often disagreed with me. "You don't have to agree, even though I'm right," he would say with a smile.

It's true. We didn't always come to the same conclusions with the same facts - but we'd listen and learn something new from each other. There were no hard feelings. The world was open to be explored. 

I really miss him, this Fathers Day weekend. I want to be his kind of encourager - that loving mentor - for the people in my life, too. "Thanks, Pop. Always loved, never forgotten."

A few questions I'm thinking about: 

• Who are you, really? (What makes your heart sing? What are you good at?)
• Who encourages you to live your life to the full?
• How can you surround yourself with more people like that?
• And - how can you be that encourager for others?

Read more:

*Woe to those who plan iniquity, because it is in their power to do it.  Micah 2:1 NIV

Jesus said, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. It will not be so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant. Matthew 20:25-26

Moravian Prayer: God of service, bless both the servants and those who consent to receive service from others, as both are needed to bring your kingdom to earth. Keep us humble in spirit and deed, and rule our lives with compassion. Amen.