I grew up in New England, the middle of five children.  My Dad practiced medicine and my Mom ran the show at home.  There were many Christmases interrupted by the ringing of the telephone as Dad was called away to attend to business.  All of us took this in stride.  In addition, my Dad was very involved in the community – a master of ceremonies extraordinaire, a Kiwanis leader, a gifted musician and acclaimed fundraiser for area fine arts organizations and venues.  Looking back on it now, I realize that I admired this busy and distant father, but really loved my Mom.

Dad and I didn’t always agree on issues and, in my early teens, I adopted an “enthusiastic, evangelical agnosticism” that he never challenged until it came to the issue of abortion.  He spoke of a “divine spark” that takes place at conception.  I demanded the rights of individuals to control what happens within their own bodies.  As I progressed through high school, I filled my life with my friends and activities with little time for father-son talks (i.e., lectures).  But on my 18th birthday, I remember using a card to express my appreciation to my parents.  The front bore a photo of a small (probably feral) cat peering around the corner of an ancient barn door, cracked just wide enough for him to fit through.  I told them that I felt a little like that cat – fearful of leaving the safety of home.  I thanked them for raising me and told them how much I owed them.  The shocker came a week later when I got a small note in my Dad’s almost indecipherable doctor’s scratch that told me I owed them nothing except to commit myself “to contribute toward the good of the next generation.”

During my freshman year in college, a guy named Paul recruited me to join a Navigators Bible study.  I fell head over heels in love with the Lord and accepted Jesus Christ as my savior.  Like my Dad, I now believe there is a divine spark that takes place at conception.  I wanted to be sure that my Dad understood the gospel, so I sent him a Bible and a long letter about my conversion.  He sent back a short thank you note explaining that he “had never put much stock in the eternal life issues of the Christian religion” – that’s New England for “when I see it, I’ll believe it.”

I prayed for my eternal Father to touch my Dad’s heart through the years of the separation occasioned by distance (I stayed in the South after graduating from college) and a busy life.  I could share the good news with strangers, but never my own Dad.  As our kids grew up, we visited Mom and Dad in Maine and then Florida after Dad retired.  Our relationship during this time was friendly and cordial.  They always told us kids that when they needed to, they would just go into a nursing home so they wouldn’t be a “burden” on us. 

Fast forward to today…  My Mom is now 90 years old and has dementia and my Dad is 88 and has difficulty walking.  When my Mom fell and broke her hip, I insisted that they move to Raleigh into a nearby independent senior center.  Over the past six years, we have enjoyed an entirely new experience – a closeness that includes hugs and “I love you” at every meeting.  When we have family meals, my Dad is the first to bow his head and put his hands out to join in our blessings.  We have been through a dark valley of illness and repeated hospitalizations over the past six months, but Dad is on the mend.  My sister and three brothers celebrated my parents’ 65th wedding anniversary here in Raleigh the last weekend in May.  Yesterday, as I left their apartment, Dad said “I’m so glad you came.  It always lifts my heart up from the depths when I hear your voice and see your smiling face.”  Happy Father’s Day 2009, Dad!

Honor your father and your mother so that you may have a long life in the land that the LORD your God is giving you.  Exodus 20:12