Hope You Don't Mind...

I have recently started using the internet radio Pandora (I know, I'm a little behind the times...). Last night, I felt in the mood for something different than my usual contemporary Christian fare, so I plugged in Chicago, and created a radio station chock full of great oldies from the 70s and 80s. Over dinner, talking to my hubby, waves of nostalgia rolled over me- not because I was a teen growing up in that time period, but because of my dad. Because of my dad, I did indeed grow up on bands like Chicago, The Beatles, America, The Eagles, Boston, Queen, REO Speedwagon, The Turtles, Bread, etc. My husband listened in amazement as song after song came on and I knew most of the words to almost every one. So I began to talk about my dad. How when I was young, growing up in Double Adobe, AZ and Redland, OR, there weren't any good Christian music stations- this was back in the 90s you know! :) So, when I would go places with Daddy, he'd crank up the oldies. The best of the 60s, 70s and 80s, the announcer would say. And as the tunes would float across the airwaves, Daddy would talk about his teen years, and how he was a sort of music junkie, discovering little known bands & one-hit-wonders, how he collected thousands of records and knew all about the bands that made them. Amazing how much I retained, for it wasn't the music or the bands that really interested me. I loved to hear Daddy talk about life when he was a kid. And I loved the time he spent telling me about it.

My dad became a pastor when I was 3 years old, and ever since I can remember, he's been talking us kids on calls with him. Now I go on calls with my own pastor husband and remember the days going with Daddy. Very rarely did Daddy go on a call to an elderly or sick person's home without taking one of us seven kids. When we lived in AZ, the trips to the hospital were at least 45 min, but usually more like 2 or 4 hrs- one way. That's a lot of time. In OR the hospitals were closer, but we still coveted the trips with Daddy. I remember many arguments happening over who got to "go with Daddy to see so-and-s0"! It wasn't just because most of the elderly widows would bring out milk and cookies for us. It was the time with Daddy. He made us feel important. He used to tell us that it made the older people and the sick people happy just to see a child's face. And he would often let us pray with them, knowing that the innocence of a child's prayers can touch a hurting heart or a weary soul like nothing else. And when we were in the car, there were always conversations. About music, of course, but also about life. About the importance of learning to listen to people. Taking an interest in what they're interested in. Look around, he'd say, look at the pictures on the walls, or the knick-knacks and ask people questions about their lives. Learn to remember the names of their kids and their grandkids. He was (is) such a good teacher of how to unselfishly minister to people. And on the way home there was always the inevitable stop for a treat, for being so good and for just being with Daddy. A soda and a bad of chips, or a donut and a bottle of juice. A candy bar.

But now as I look back, it isn't the treats I remember so well. The thing that has left such a lasting impression on me (besides the great old tunes!) is the time I spent with my Daddy. Knowing that my company was valuable to him, knowing that he enjoyed spending those hours with me. Now, married, living away from home, I treasure every moment I spent with my Daddy. And Daddy, as Elton John would say, I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind, that I put down in words, how wonderful life was...when I got to spend time with you! :)