Rest well. Watch For Me

This week is a introspective for me.  My father, a decorated WWII army veteran, a Christian, hardworking, blue-collar man, would have had his 102nd birthday had he been alive, but he died back in 2014.  There’s not a day I don’t think of him and Mom. Dad had farming in his blood, and they started their marriage on a small farm they were buying on land contract, but the owner let them repair and build it up and make it a good place and then pretended he hadn’t got their payment, evicted them and sold it at a good profit the next day.

 Dad never got over that; he moved us up to Ohio, worked hard in a factory, had four kids, and always, no matter where we lived, we at least raised chickens.  He bought and paid off several homes, each one getting a little better and larger, and finally settled on 5.5 acres with small outbuildings, tall grass, and big fields. Dad raised a bull calf a year for the freezer, raised chickens for eggs and meat, had a huge garden. We all had pets: dogs, a few barn cats, rabbits, and Guinea pigs, though to Dad, a good animal was one where your attention and care paid off into something useful, like drumsticks or steaks. He hated mom’s guineas, got ponies for us kids, and loved his land. He worked 90 miles away and drove back and forth every day, 14 hours a day, to make good money. He bought some rundown duplexes, fixed them up nicely, and then rented them out. When he felt he had enough coming in, he quit the factory, stayed home full-time to farm and be a landlord, sold veggies, and rented apartments.  Dad always had something going to increase funds from different sources.  He spoke of having lots of little streams flowing into the family river. In the end, cancer took him from us, but I think he passed because Mama had died a few months earlier from Alzheimer’s, and he didn’t want to go on.  The day she passed, my daughter and I were with them. Dad was sitting in his rocker, holding Mom’s hand as she lay in the bed, her breathing slower and slower, and she finally stopped.  It’s one of the few times I’d ever seen my dad weep.  I called the hospice folks, and they verified death, and she was taken away and buried in the plot up on the hill.   Dad refused treatment for his skin cancer; he was always having dark spots removed.  It ate into his brain, and he passed quietly in six months.  Dad had a good life, raised four kids, and loved his grandkids.

Everything he owned was his; there were no loans or mortgages.  He voted every year; as long as he could, he was active in his church until he went blind from a stroke.  He died listening to Lawrence Welk on Fawn’s computer.  We were there taking care of him until the last.  Then, we and Dan had his funeral service, we three being lay pastors.  He left us a legacy of hard work,  honesty, and grit.  Dad was able to hold my first book before he died.  He was nearly blind but could read the big letters on the title with my name on it and the dedication to him and mom inside.  He cherished that book. Imagine one of his kids, a published author!  He loved all our accomplishments, things he’d never been able to do. He encouraged us to get an education. 

To honor my parents’ memory and in celebration of Dad’s birthday on May 6 and Mother’s Day on May 11, I’m offering a free download of my book from May 2-6 on Amazon.  It’s a small gesture, but I hope it brings joy to those who read it.

Lessons from the Beastly University Faculty 

What do wolf-dogs, gerbils, alpaca, Siamese cats, and bunnies have in common?  They’ve all been my teachers in life. As someone who has had the privilege of being owned by many animals, I’ve discovered that they can enrich your faith and well-being in ways you might not expect. In my book, I share the divine wisdom I’ve uncovered from my furry and feathered friends. Animals been unexpected guides to a closer walk with God, and I’m excited to share their lessons with you.

Don’t forget to download and I hope you love animals like we do! See you next week!