My Dad
My Dad is a man of quiet, durable
faith.
Faith in God.
Faith in Family.
Faith in Community.
Faith in Country.
Faith in Democracy.
Every aspect of faith tested him.
They were each ongoing conversations and inner discovery.
Each aspect of faith became more complex over time
And then became transparent - rooted in his being.
My Dad is a man of quiet, complex, durable faith.
All of those conversations continue.
His faith in god was tested as my path led to a different practice than
his.
His faith in god was tested as my brother’s path led to a different
faith than his.
He came to appreciate the innate goodness in diverse faiths and
supported them... quietly.
Someone¹ once stated, “Belief clings, faith lets go.”
My Dad is a man of faith.
I remember him coming to be the father my young bride needed in her
life.
A role I was happy to see survive our later divorce.
And, in between, dad celebrated additions to the family.
Occasionally taking my pre-school son Eric out for ice cream.
He spent time with each of his grandkids… adapted to each of their
personalities and interests.
And then added my daughter’s new husband to that list of grandkids.
I know there are others that he came to love as kids and grandkids over
the years.
His is a large heart.
George Bernard Shaw once said,
A life spent making mistakes is not only more honorable
but more useful
than a life spent in doing nothing.”
Dad’s is an honorable, useful life.
His learning to drive was a story told late in his life.
Yet it happened early, in the summer of 1930 when his dad was raising
pigs that became sick.
His dad taught him to drive,
then his dad butchered the pigs and my dad drove their Model T
taking the pigs to the rendering plant to dispose of them -
this was the summer before he turned 13.
Other stories were sketched out later -
about working across southern Kansas as he finished school and looked
for work in a bleak time.
He found many careers over his life and shaped them to fit him and what
was needed.
The Buddha said that “Freedom from suffering lies within suffering
itself,
and it is up to each individual to find his or her own way.”²
My Dad is a man of faith finding his way and quietly letting go.
Namasté³, Dad, namasté - the spirit in me sees and
loves the spirit in you -
And, within That which is infinite and eternal, we are one.
¹ Alan Watts
² Joan Halifax, the
lucky dark - tricycle,
spring 2008
³ Taken literally, it means "I bow to you". The
word is derived from Sanskrit (namas): to bow, obeisance, reverential
salutation, and (te): "to you".