I saw him make a u-turn, to go back to the convenience store where the clerk had given him too much change.
I saw the way he talked to the state trooper, who pulled us over for speeding, and I saw how good people handle being in the wrong.
I heard what he said in church, but I saw how he walked it on Monday through Saturday.
I saw him give when he had it; I saw him give when he had not.
I heard him preach Do Unto Others and I saw him Do Unto Others and I saw that he did unto better than was ever done unto him…without ever keeping score.
I saw him endure the un-fun stretches in the marriage, and I saw him care for her after their 50th anniversary, keeping the vow, of in sickness and health.
I saw him unchanged by money. He was humble when flush; he was not shrunk by lack.
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Long before I saw my own flaws I saw his flaws. I did what prideful children do when they try to bring their parents down to their level. A few decades out there, on my own, and I saw him with fresh eyes, with more awe than even when I was a child. It’s not easy to be good, and steady and hold onto a rare standard of character. I had fallen in only a little time; he still held his ground with twice the life.
He is a man of his generation. I saw him not expecting life to be easy, but glad for the chance and grateful to the Maker. I saw him do without sleep, I saw him with many pots on the stove. I saw him say no to himself and yes to my mother and yes to his kids. I saw him being a good citizen, a follow-the-ruler, a respecter of authority, a minder of his own business, a team player of America.
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I saw him pray, saw him pray, saw him pray… We all pray when the wolf is at the door, but I saw him pray even when he stood beneath rainbows.
He was the first person to show me that God wasn’t just out-there, silent, stoic, arms-crossed, but that God was Father, and wanted a relationship with His children. I saw him say good morning to his Father every morning, with little conversations during the day.
I saw him love, I saw him joy, I saw him peace. I saw God’s fruit.
He is the Christian-ish Christian I will ever know. That’s not a small thing for a child to say about their parent. He earned it, in the one-day-at-a-time steadiness of his life.
He is 85 years old, and he’s earned a flag pole, and those of us who know him can only salute, and aspire.
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This edition of Uncle P’s Bedtime Stories is brought to you by Eighty-one, which hopes this encourages all of you who are raising children to remember that children are always watching, and they learn the most from the little common moments.
Uncle P’s Bedtime Stories are posted three times a week on Eighty-one’s Facebook page, Sunday, Wednesday and Friday evenings, about pillow time. Uncle P can be reached at 81creativity@gmail.com.
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