WACKY WEDNESDAY WISDOM: My Father's Eyes

     It was only a quick glance so I didn't get a real good look at the image on the wall. But it did cause me to do a double take. And once I realized what I was looking at, I chuckled a little. There were other people in the room so I played it off as if it had never happened. But it had. And in those few moments, something profound occurred in my life.
     Back to that in a moment. First I will acknowledge that this coming Sunday is Father's Day. As a father of three boys, my main goal for Sunday is that I will at least get a text from each of them, especially the one who is currently at home from college for the summer. But I won't fret if I don't. Two reasons why- 1)boys tend to forget important dates and occasions and 2)I know they love me regardless.
     In fact, it's hardly fair to call them boys these days. They are men now. The oldest two are college graduates who are gainfully employed and the aforementioned third just completed his freshman year of college. As a father, I am proud of them and their accomplishments. But to be honest, on Father's Day, I don't think much about my fatherhood. I tend to think of my own Dad instead.
     Dad is 82 and doesn't get around as well as he used to. But no matter, he is still plenty strong physically, mentally, and spiritually. He remains the most important male figure in the history of my life experience. For each of my 20,276 days of life (yes, I counted), I have felt the assurance of the love of an earthly father. What a blessing. For those of you who haven't experienced that or who have lost your father, I am truly sorry. I don't know what it feels like to have lost a father or to have lived a day wondering whether or not my father loved or cared about me.
     My dad has never partaken in any vices such as smoking, drinking, gambling, cursing, or expressing interest in any of the 3.8 billion females on planet Earth not named Brenda Stroupe. His preference and allegiance was always directed toward my appreciative mom.
     Quite often males who become adult parents will catch themselves lecturing or scolding their children and will suddenly pause, lift their hands high above their heads and say something like- "Oh my gosh, I've turned into my father." This is not usually uttered in a complimentary manner, as many a young man promised himself as a youth that he wouldn't follow in his father's footsteps someday.
     My brother and I were having a conversation with Dad recently, reminiscing about some of the "Dad-isms" we were exposed to back in the day. One thing Dad would always say- "Get home before 12, nothing good happens after midnight." We probably disagreed then but I have told my own sons that same thing for many years now. Perhaps Dad was right all along.
     So how does the glance at the image on the wall fit in with all this? It fits in, trust me. I was standing in a doctor's office on that particular day. I tend to look at the certificates and the pictures on the wall when I'm in a doctor's office and this day was no exception. A passing glance at one of the images made me pause for a moment and think to myself- "Hey, that looked like my dad." Of course my eyes immediately returned back to the image and I realized I wasn't looking at a picture at all. I was looking at a mirror.
     Amy Grant recorded a Christian song many years back entitled "My Father's Eyes". The chorus of that song goes something like this, (altered only to apply to me as a male): "When people look inside my life, I want to hear them say, he's got his father's eyes. Eyes that find the good in things, when good is not around. Eyes that find the source of help, when help just can't be found. Eyes full of compassion, seeing every pain. Knowing what you're going through and feeling it just the same- just like my father's eyes." Obviously she was speaking of her Heavenly Father, whose perfection no earthly father could ever match.
     But as I chuckled after mistakenly thinking for a moment that I was gazing at a picture of my dad when I was actually viewing my own countenance in a mirror, I decided that having my earthly father's eyes wasn't such a bad thing. Turning into my father and following in his footsteps is my privilege. I am proud to look like my dad on the outside, and I hope, on the inside as well.
    My dad was born on March 22, 1937, around 1:30 a.m.- living proof that my dad is not always right after all. In that instance, something good did happen after midnight.