Dad Didn’t Know It, But . . .

Dad didn’t know it. He was just being Dad. I didn’t know it, either. He was just my father. But God was revealing himself in subtle ways through my dad’s interactions with me.

One of my fondest memories of growing up is visiting the rural home of a couple my parents knew from work. They had no children for me to play with, but my brother and I ran around on their one-plus acres and played in the creek that ran under a gigantic weeping willow. I also entertained myself with the rabbits in their pens, the chickens in their coop, and the kittens that roamed freely.

Late in the day, the adults would sit in metal chairs on the patio, talking into the night. Though long ago, I can still remember climbing into my father’s lap in the darkness, worn out from the day’s activities. Dad’s arms welcomed me, and I would lay my head on his chest. I’d listen to him talk, but I didn’t hear him through the atmosphere. His words seemed to come right out of his heart and through his shirt. It was warm and comforting as I drifted off. I felt as though I was in a safe cocoon.

Daddy didn’t know it, but he was showing me that after a busy or difficult day, I can climb into my heavenly Father’s lap and snuggle into his welcoming arms. I can lay my head on his chest and listen to him speak to me directly from his heart while I’m wrapped in the cocoon of his love.

When I was perhaps a little older, I got to help Dad with the family Christmas cards. Of course, my penmanship wasn’t yet pretty enough to secure the job of addressing the envelopes, but I was perfectly capable of licking a stamp. I was so excited that Dad trusted me to stamp the envelopes.

After I proudly completed my task, Dad checked my work. His low-key reaction consisted of surprise with a hint of amusement. All the stamps were nicely placed in the corners of the envelopes. The upper left corners! I don’t remember what Dad did about it, but he was a problem solver and figured something out.

Dad didn’t know it, but he was showing me that God is not bent out of shape when I fail to do things perfectly. He knows my heart to please him, and he knows I am learning. Even in my blunders, he’s generous with his stamp of approval.

I hadn’t been away at college long before I came home for a visit. I was excited to show my parents that I had learned how to make ice cube candles. I went to work in the kitchen, melting wax to pour over ice cubes in a milk carton mold. The finished candle would look like Swiss cheese.

In my creative excitement, I unthinkingly poured some unneeded wax down the kitchen drain. By Dad’s sudden movements, I knew something was wrong.

And that was when I learned there is a snake other than the slithery kind. Dad calmly retrieved his reptilian tool from the garage and charmed it into devouring the wax until water flowed again. He didn’t express any anger or annoyance. I think he was just glad to have me back home.

Dad didn’t know it, but he was showing me that God has a solution ready and waiting for any problem before I even know I have a problem. And my problems are never a burden to him. He’s just happy that I choose to be home with him.

After my dad passed away, I was cleaning out his top dresser drawer. Half of it was filled with letters, cards, and family photos. The other half contained odds and ends.

Buried under everything was a small faded-white cardboard jewelry box with pen scribbles on the lid and yellowed marks where tape had originally held it together. The weight of the box seemed to indicate it was empty, but not so. Inside I discovered a treasure.

I gazed at a small mound of molded clay, only 1.5 inches in diameter. It was painted dark turquoise and had four holes in the top. It looked like about third grade workmanship. Only by the initials on the bottom did I know I had made it.

And only by the twice-folded note accompanying it did I know what it was: a pencil holder and paper weight that I had given Dad for Christmas. I couldn’t believe he had kept this simple, and fairly useless, gift for over half a century.

Dad didn’t know it, but he was showing me that God treasures my gifts of love regardless of their simplicity, and he remembers them long after they have faded from my memory.

I wasn’t aware at the time of these experiences that God was revealing his nature to me through my dad. But I look back now and treasure how my heavenly Father so beautifully used the everyday actions of my earthly father to give me a clearer picture of himself—even though Dad didn’t know it.