My Dad’s parents divorced when my Dad was 10 at a time and place where divorce was very, very rare. His parents remarried other people, and his stepfather was an abusive alcoholic. My Dad saw his mother beaten up, and when he and his three brothers tried to intervene and stop it from happening, they were beaten up themselves. When they got strong enough, big enough and old enough, they were able to protect their mom and themselves.
Dad grew up with a great desire to protect and serve others. He found that desire satisfied in being a policeman.
Yet, in that desire—he had compassion for the people he arrested. He would tell me that many of them would start telling him their stories as they sat in the back of his cruiser—stories of their own abuse from others and from their own hands—of all the ways their lives had led them to this point in time. Dad would listen, and he would encourage them, telling them that they could make different choices– they could get help–they did not have to be the people they currently were– God would help them.
Dad knew the truth of what he was saying. You see– my Dad struggled with alcoholism. He found help through Alcoholics Anonymous, (AA). AA helped my Dad know and believe the truth—that his life was unmanageable and God would give him the strength, moment by moment, to live a sober life, an abundant life, and a forgiven life.
Dad had a best friend and partner who would eventually leave the State Police and become a Pastor and an Evangelical Speaker, as the calling to speak hope and forgiveness and grace into others’ lives became a fulltime calling.
So many of my childhood memories involve my Dad doing things with us, taking us skating, sledding, camping, and swimming. When I was in High School I decided to join the track team– my Dad ran with me every day to get me in shape for the track season. My Dad was a great runner himself, and in many ways I think he was trying to get me ready to run the race of life. We would run, and he would tell me stories, trying to impart his own passion and drive into my approach to running, into my approach to life.
It was my Uncle Jimmy, not my Dad, who told us the story of my Dad running in the State finals. He was mocked by the other racers and when they asked him what he–a white boy– was doing in the race, my Dad replied with a grin, “You’re about to find out”, and he went on to win the race.
By God’s grace and strength, my Dad has won his race in life. He went home to be with the Lord on October 21st of 2009. His story testifies to all of us that God loves us and that God is with us–each step of our race–until the final step!! Philippians 1:6
May We Be Encouraged!!
Encouragement for you!! 