Dear Dad

Dad,

Today is Father's Day and I'm so glad to be the father of two incredible young men. My oldest, Zachariah, is tender hearted, conscientious, thoughtful, considerate, and he has this dry wit thing going on;  with tremendous leadership characteristics as well as being a graceful athlete. Most of all, he seems to be finding his his own way with the Lord, wrestling with the call of Christ and embracing the things of God. I'm proud of him for so being so much more than I could ever have dreamed to be when I was his age.

My youngest, Noah, is passionate, kind toward all, loyal, diligent, wise beyond his years and peaceful. He works hard at whatever his hands find to do and he is able to articulate why and what he believes about God and life. He has a deep and abiding hunger for the things of God and that makes my heart rejoice. He already has more A's on his report card than I did in my entirely way too long educational journey.

You would be very proud of them, too. Even more so, you may have looked me in the eye and told me you were proud of me and how my boys are growing up. That would have been a great moment in the life of a father who sometimes wonders, "How am I doing? Am I doing this right?"

Of course, since most examples are caught, rather than taught, you missed out on giving me that example. I've had to rely on the examples around me, the men who've poured a little bit of their life into mine. You didn't know these men, but they filled in admirably in your stead.

Grandpa Erbes, who took care of his own daughter and grandson for the first few years while driving me around in his International Harvester truck. He came to my baseball games when I was older and I smell his cologne sometimes in random places and it always brings a smile. 

Jeff Totten, my first little league coach, who was one of the strongest and gentlest men I remember. He had a big, bushy mustache and the hairiest arms I'd ever seen. I remember him talking about Jesus and wanting to know Jesus just because of how he carried himself.

My Uncle Dale, who played chess with me, bought me books like "Man of Steel: The story of Terry Bradshaw" covertly planting the gospel seeds that would bear fruit some 15 years later. I remember staying over at his house watching Michigan in the Bluebonnet Bowl and getting to hold the remote! (Big remote, too being that it was 1977!)

Duane Postema always made sure to make me feel like a Postema (the mighty dutch!) and came to games even well after the marriage between my mother and him crashed and burned.

John Thiele, my next door neighbor who coached our Red Arrows Rocket football teams for three years. He always made sure I was on his team and always made sure I had a ride to practices and games.

Randy Commeret, one of my Junior high coaches, who taught me a great lesson in 7th grade. I forgot my stirrups for one of our baseball games and he benched me. He didn't think twice about it and his reasoning was I wasn't prepared. I never forgot any part of my uniform for any sport I participated in from that day forward.

Dick VanderKamp, my high school baseball coach, who drove me around in the summer, tried his best to keep me eligible during high school, threw BP to me in the early morning before school and believed I could be more than a 'bad actor' someday.

My summer coaches, Al Ware and Dick Klunder, who were peaceful, strong men who knew baseball and knew young men. They were a quiet, steady influence on me and I was better for being around them.

My college coaches did the best they could with me. The ebb and flow of my locations, emotions and dependability made their jobs a bit tougher. Although I was a good ballplayer, I was not a good man.
I look back with a sense of loss because I know the impact I could have had on those around me if I was walking with God, growing in grace and knowledge, and acting like a man, not a boy...a foolish one, at that. 

Do you think you could have made a difference? Maybe we would have sat down, talked about how I was playing, what you saw that could make me better and then then reinforced the truth about servant leadership. Maybe the examples I would have observed in your life would have left an indelible mark, the imprint of a father's touch.

Do you think you could have made a difference? Maybe you would let me know my wife needs me to be more compassionate, selfless and tender hearted. I can figure out these things, but the delay switch is on and it needs to be fixed.

I know there have been times when I have hurt my sweet sons with reckless words. Those moments have been scarce, but they still haunt me. I sometimes wonder if your example would have helped me be better than I was in those moments.

I was and still am a fiery competitor. I am aghast at my lack of maturity in some situations and ashamed of my moments of tempestuous behavior. I sometimes wonder if you would have made a difference, directed me down the path of wisdom a bit sooner so God wouldn't have such a big reclamation project on his hands. 

For most of my life, I've never spent more than a few minutes pondering you and where you are, if you're alive and what you are doing. It's not on my bucket list, or any other list for that matter. But, today is Father's day and I cannot understand any father not wanting to be near their son(s).

People ask me if I would ever want to see you, meet you, contact or hear from you. Honestly, my response is: "Only if he has left an inheritance of monetary value." Sad isn't it? That's about all the value you could offer now, since the most important part of what a father can give, you abandoned many years ago.

Knowing what I know about God's love for his own son and my love for my sons, I cannot fathom you walking away so many years ago. When I saw Zachariah for the first time, I didn't want to run away, I held onto him and never wanted to let him go. When Noah was born, I held him and never wanted to let him go. Now, at night when I pray over them and bless them there are times I don't want to leave their side. I want the moment to linger, to go on and I don't want to take my hand from their hand.

I know it's all a gift from God. I understand I need to seek Him first to be the man I'm supposed to be; as a husband and as a father. But sometimes, I fall a short and could really use that voice of wisdom that is tangible and trustworthy.

There is a promise written in the Psalms about God being a father to the fatherless. Technically, I had a father around for intermittent times, but I can look back and see God's hand in it all. I believe whatever the enemy planned for hardship, God has made good. I rest in that.

I would trade many things to go back and see what life would have been like with a Dad ever present to help me navigate through adolescence and beyond. But if that trade would mean losing the joy of being a Father to Zach and Noah, it would never be enough.

So, Dad, I just wanted to let you know I missed you...and you missed me.