On Father’s Day...Belatedly...

So, between work and fighting off an annoyingly persistent bout of cold, I’ve fallen deplorably behind in my reading. But, on the bright side, I’ve finally gotten around to writing this post for Father’s Day. (I have good intentions! Unfortunately, they don’t get implemented immediately!) So taking a break from the Reading List, here’s to my dad…

My father – well where do I start – there are so many instances I remember from my childhood; instances that have defined our relationship in many ways. I always enjoyed running errands with my dad. My earliest memory is of standing beside him with my arm around his neck as he drove his Mahindra Jeep in Muzaffarpur. I think that’s when I developed a love for jeeps. He had a phrase that he used to describe me, (which I only understood when I was older!) – “Three years old and three feet tall.” After we moved to Hyderabad, I remember many rides, sitting on the petrol tank of his Yezdi. With the wind in my face, and my dad behind me, that was the life!

Growing up, the only toys he ever bought my sister and I, were Lego sets! Our playtime was very, umm...constructive, to say the least! The solitary doll I ever had was when I was in 4^th class and I asked him to buy me a Barbie. Poor man, he didn’t know one doll from the next and bought me something that most definitely wasn’t a Barbie! Of course I was overjoyed to have a doll, finally! But needless to say, I soon lost interest in her and was back with the Lego sets again!

Patience is my father’s middle name. Or should be! Traffic, annoying people, life – nothing fazes him. When there’s a situation, he’ll patiently try and work out what the issue is, talk things out and sort it. One of the few times I’ve seen him lose his temper was with my abysmal inability to grasp the concept of the decimal point! To be fair, he’d probably explained the concept at least five times before I went and stuck the decimal point on the wrong side of the number again!

Dad always taught us to laugh at ourselves. He never let us take ourselves too seriously. As a teen, I remember him saying, “No moods allowed in this house!” And he’d proceed to crack some joke or imitate somebody to get me off my high horse and laughing again. And if the joke is on him, he’ll laugh at himself as well!

My dad loves to invite people home for a meal! When he meets somebody for the first time, the 9^th or 10^th statement he’ll make is, “Why don’t you come visit us?” Dad loves to talk to people on a deeper level (“what other level is there,” he’ll say), and invariably people love talking to him too. Dad has a knack of finding those people who need help the most and is always willing to go out of his way to help them.

I remember him waking us up for morning prayer every day. And however groggy and sleepy we might be, he’d still share some thoughts with us. Ok, my sister and I are not really morning people! And we didn’t really appreciate being woken up so early! But now I’m grateful for all those little thoughts – they got me thinking, helped me understand the Word in a deeper way and defined my growing years. Dad always encouraged us to question and think. He never spoon-fed the answers to us – whether about spiritual stuff or maths!

But the thing I love about my Dad the most is that he’s mirrored how my Father loves me. Through all the fun and laughter, the growing pains, the mistakes and corrections, he’s given me a glimpse of how God looks at each of us and loves us unconditionally; which has made Him more real to me.

And I thank Him for that!