Fathers Day and Heros

Nothing between, like worldly pleasure;
Habits of life, though harmless they seem,
Must not my heart from Him e’er sever;
He is my all, there’s nothing between.

There is a balm in Gilead (Jeremaih 8:22). There is a retrovi (rediscovery), magnificence in thinking again of your own father on this fathers day.

My mother and father were singers, at the old family church house, built by my ancestors (1874), They did not just "mumble" the old hymn's, as do most pretending Christians. You could hear them singing above the crowd. Much later in life, in my private practice which I enjoyed for a few years following the military, many members of churches and other communities (and my parents visited churches everywhere), would say to me, "our church revival never got started until your parents came to the meetings, and we could hear them singing."

Perhaps the earliest memory of my own father, was hearing him sing early in the mornings, as he was around the farm, feeding the hogs, work animals, and milking the cows. I can still hear him singing, his favorites, nothing between and, "I'll take my vacation in Heaven." He never took a vacation, in his entire life. He was the workingness man anyone could know. He never had anytime for the "worldly pleasures" of most men such as, hunting, fishing, sports events, he was always busy. could find more work for his sons on a wet day, then most men could find for their boys on a dry day. If nothing else, he would say, "Thomas go to corn-crib and shuck corn." we had a large farm which had been in the family a very long time. Mules or tractor, he would keep us all busy from early morning to darkness. Then, on Saturdays, holidays, he would be up early doing the usual chores (hogs, cows, chickens etc.), and then drive the 5 miles into town, to stand on his feet all day long and cut hair. This he did my entire life. One of the many preachers at his funeral said, "There is no telling how many heads he cut for 10 cents a head during the great depression." Of course his funeral was held at the old family church, with its many additions over the years, which he and my cousins mostly built. I still remember the day that he and I were working on one addition at the church. I was holding up the drywall for him to nail. I said, "why are not others here to help us at the church?" I still remember the tears rolling down his face, as he said, "They don't love our church as much as we do."

Every church member has a 168 hour week. Most think their salvation is adequate just for that one hour on Sunday morning. He believed Christianity involved every hour- second, of every day. Early on Sunday mornings, Winter: building fires in the wood-burning heaters throughout the church. Summer: opening the windows throughout the church in all Sunday school rooms. He would always go the mile to the church to make it comfortable for others. If the weather were so bad that the preacher- pastor could not get there, then he would conduct the service. When I was a child, Church service, only one Sunday a month. But, there was always Sunday school, prayer meetings, visitations, etc. The men of the church were responsible for these services. My father was also chairman of the school board, small- poor country public school. This writer, like his sister and two brothers, like his parents- grand-parents went to this same school for 12 years. I still remember the principal of the school driving to the farm, going up to the field to find my father on the tractor, and discuss problems with him. Often, my father would come to the house, put his toolbox in his truck, and head to the school house to take care of a building. It was much easier for my father and principal to repair something, then to do paperwork and the county finally get around to it.

Once, when I was a student at Chapel Hill, I told the founder of modern education in North Carolina, Dr. Guy Phillips, that story. He said, "Your father might not have been a college graduate but he was a real educator."

Children must have good memories. I so pity those who do not. As poor as we were, dirt road- no power, phone, or running water (the embarrassment of outside bathrooms both at our home and the church). Prominent people would often visit our church because they had heard of its beuty and the great song services there. I still remember the walkers, owners of the Ford dealership. My parents invited them to go to our home for lunch. They hardly knew them, but the Walkers went to our home, and years later, as my patients, they both said to me, "In our many years of church life, that was the first real Christianity we had ever seen."

I remember another time that a couple, the Sassers came to the church, my parents remembered through their ancestors. They invited them to our home for lunch. My mother usually had two large tables of people every church Sunday. In later years, this couple, school teachers, told me the same thing, that they had never forgotten that hospitality.  

At my fathers funeral, packed house, after I had led the family in as the oldest child, one floor reef was brought in late. It was by far the largest there. One of the funeral directors, came over and handed me the card that was on it. I just stuck it in my pocket. Later, a friend read the card to me, "In memorial to the only man I ever knew, in church, or out, whoever spoke to me about the welfare of my soul." The card was signed by an NC state senator.

His last years, my mother having died of cancer at age 62, I would call him and tell him I was coming up for a visit, to take him out to lunch. He was so proud to see me in my Cadillac. My driver would always say, "He will be sitting on the front porch watching for you." He gave me many of the values, that have kept me going during my years of disappointment, blindness. He was the sermon, instead of a message. He was the example of hard work. Disciplined living. I believe he will be sitting on another porch, watching for his four children.  

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