If He Could See Me Now

I have the distinction of sharing a birthdate with three key events in history--the birth of George Washington, the funeral of my beloved maternal grandfather, and the funeral of my amazing father.

I don't know why the Lord thought I should be the one with those honors.

My father died fifteen years ago. I still catch myself wanting to tell him something I know he'd find fascinating. He found most things fascinating. He read encyclopedias (the book kind) for fun.

He would have found the accessibility of the Internet more thrilling than an amusement park. His thirst for information would have made him a cyber-soaker-upper.

He loved learning. Thanks for passing that on to me, Dad.

He loved words. Double thanks. (He was a ringer in the game of Balderdash. He knew all the real definitions!)

He was passionate about communicating the wonders tucked into God's Word. Infinite thanks.

I wish he could have met my grandchildren, and they him. They would have adored him. He'd read them stories, never failing to include all the words on the title and copyright pages. He'd build Lego towers to rival Babel. He'd play Catapult-the-Kid in the pool and draw cartoon characters with a skill that would make us wonder how he decided between art and music for a career.

If he could see me now, I think he'd be pleased on at least three levels.

1. I love words as much as he did. I love the taste of them. Their texture. Their pulsating power.
2. My appetite to share God's truths is never satiated.
3. Music still moves me.

One of my fondest latter years memories with my dad is sitting in the back of the movie theater, watching the credits roll following the viewing of "Amadeus." We stayed, entranced, until the last frame--not for the names, but for the music.

Would my dad have been a blogger if he'd lived that long? Maybe. He had plenty to say. In some ways, he's still speaking.