Favorite Father's Day Memory

   It is 39 years since my father died at the age of sixty-two. The family tree has grown many more branches since then and most of his descendants never knew him. But I can still hear him whistling as he came in the walk after work. We sang a lot as a family and sometimes he played his harmonica. We always asked him to play the train. He could duplicate the sound of a steam train starting out slowly, building up steam until it was chugging along at full speed and blowing its whistle.

   He couldn't read music and didn't know how to use a pitchpipe, but he could sing and led the singing in church for many years.The memory I hear most often from people who knew him is the way he could get children to sing in Summer Bible School. He gave me a love of music.

   People seemed to think Daddy had a lot of money. He did not. We had all we needed but Mom kept the books and I know she struggled to make ends meet. I think the reason people thought Daddy had more money than he did was because he was so generous. When he saw or heard of a need, he would pitch in and help whether he had the money to spare or not. That brings me to my favorite memory of Daddy. I told it before but it is worth repeating.

   When I was about nine years old, my parents struck up a deal with my sister and I to raise a batch of broilers. They would buy the peeps and feed; my sister and I would do the work of raising them. After they were sold our parents would deduct their expenses from the selling price and we could pocket the profit. My sister and I kept our end of the bargain and raised the chickens.

   I'll never forget the day Mom and Daddy went in the little room where his desk was to go over the account. I waited with mounting excitement to see how much money I had made. I had no idea what to expect but had visions of a lot more than the 5-cent weekly allowance I was used to receiving. At last, my sister and I were called into the office individually to collect our share of the money. When my turn came Daddy explained how they had gone over the accounts and handed me $5 which was my share of the profit. Mom asked if I thought it had been worth it to do all that work. I said "yes" because I knew that was what they wanted me to say but I was actually disappointed. I thought my profit would be a lot more than $5.

   Years later, I learned that the bottom had dropped out of the broiler market that year. Daddy had actually lost money on those chickens. He took the loss himself and simply gave me and my sister each $5--which increased his loss.

   Every Father's Day I remember this favorite story about my father because it so vividly portrays his true character. He took the loss himself and gave me a gift I had not earned. A father like that makes it easy for his children to grasp the concept a God who took the loss Himself to give His children a gift they had not earned and did not deserve.