Kristi Muszik It’s Father’s Day weekend, and I am reflecting on who my father is.
My father has made God’s word final authority in his life, and he won’t deviate from it.
My father isn’t moved by what people say or think of him. He is only moved by what the Word of God says of him.
My father operates powerfully in the gifts of teaching, which shows forth in every part of his life daily. Even in our home, growing up with my siblings, his teaching ability came forth through training and loving us.
My father finds enjoyment and fulfillment in teaching God’s word and seeing enlightenment transform in people’s eyes as they understand God’s truth.
My father would delight in teaching God’s word daily as a Bible teacher.
My father is a choleric with solid leadership. He has no problem walking into a situation, seeing what needs to be done, and bringing order to chaos.
My father has spent most of his life as a pastor, leading people to the truth of God’s word.
My father is one who, over the years, learned to be vulnerable before his congregation in sharing about the mistakes he has made in life as he wasn’t much so in the beginning of his pastoral years.
My father does not show much emotion in his logical way of thinking. Compare me to someone whose feelings can move with a less logical way of thinking. Letting my emotions at times dictate my decisions, right or wrong.
I appreciate my father encouraging me to be self-controlled with my emotions when I needed it and not be moved by my feelings. It has saved me from making wrong decisions when I choose to listen.
Because of my love language, my father may not show forth his love in the way I expect it. But I have learned how to find and understand his way of showing love for his family.
My father shows us, his family, his love for us by ensuring we are all well taken care of, even in our adult years. He is there, giving us insight when we need it. He helps us fix things that need to be fixed. He is there for us whenever we need him.
Growing up, even when we didn’t have much, he ensured that we had the best shoes for our growing feet and that there was plenty of food for our growing bodies.
My father was my rock in my darkest hours. When I came out of a painful, broken situation that affected my emotional and mental state, he was there every step of the way, holding my hand as I was coming out of the unhealthy situation, gaining healing for my being.
He was there with open arms, holding me as I went through the most devastating, emotionally broken time of my life when I felt as though my heart was being ripped out and smashed into millions of pieces.
While I felt as though I had lost the dearest, precious treasures of my heart, he just sat there quietly, holding me as the flood dam of my emotions rushed out of my being.
After the emotional flood dam went through its course, he encouraged me to put myself back together and fight fearlessly for what was unexpectedly taken from me.
I have fond memories of my father while growing up. He would take us inner-tubing on the snowy mountains. He would put wax on those tubes so we could smoothly and swiftly down the hill.
At the tender age of 5 or 6, he would load up his small pickup truck with our garbage to take to the landfill. And I would go with him. He would let me sit on his lap when we were on the landfill property—allowing my little hands to operate the truck’s steering wheel. I thought I was hot stuff driving the truck. He helped by operating the gas and brake peddles and keeping his hands close to the steering wheel.
I remember I had my little saw in his garage. He would give me my piece of wood to saw while he was sawing his piece of wood.
I remember I had a little house made from a cardboard kit my parents bought me. In those days, we didn’t have plastic houses like we do now for our kids and grandkids today.
My little cardboard house was already decorated like a little house.
One afternoon, I was having tea with my little plastic tea set in my little cardboard house at my little brown wooden table with two little brown wooden chairs. At the same time, my dad was working outside doing yard work.
My dad took a break from his yard work and joined me for tea. He entered my little house, sat in one of my little chairs, and sipped tea with my plastic tea set.
That moment was branded deep into my heart and carried in my memories over the years. He loved me in my love language and took the time to have tea with me. With my little, plastic tea set, at my little, brown, wooden table with little, brown, wooden chairs, in my little, cardboard house.
Other fond memories are tucked away in my heart to be shared at another time.
I appreciate my father and for who he is.
I love my father and for who he is.
I am grateful for my father’s leadership ability and his confidence in who he is in Christ.
I am grateful for my father installing the word of God into my heart, for I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn’t for him teaching me the truth of God’s word.
I love you Daddy!
Your Baby Doll Forever
“To her, the name of father was another name for love.” —Fanny Fern
