Mum's the Word

Well I have written a bit about my dad lately but I mustn’t forget the woman who bore me from her loins.

I have a great mom. She and I have been best friends for a long time. Whenever I had hard times she was always right there beside me to comfort me and tell me that everything would be O.K. When I was little there were a couple of times I can remember where she would let me take the day off of school so we could spend the day together. Just the two of us. And when I would have to take a lunch to school she would lovingly cut my sandwiches into neat little shapes with her cookie cutters. She would also with great care and pride sew lovely outfits for me, some of which, I regret to say, would get me picked on now if I wore them. ie: M. C. Hammer pants. (I asked her to make those though)

One time, I was sick with the flu and a fever and I remember waking up in the night and there she was, sitting in my room watching over me.

All these little things were her ways of letting me know that I was special to her and that she loved me very much. She used to call me her little sponge because any time she would hug me I would just soak up the love and keep soaking it up. She loves the Lord with all her heart and showed me how to be a good person. When I was little, she would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I would always tell her "I want to be a Mommy!"

I love you Mom!

From Peanuts to Cocoa

I was sitting here thinking about the snow melting today and I remembered a time when I was probably about 9 or 10 years old. I had my very first job delivering the Free Press Newspaper in our neighborhood. I would bundle myself up every day after school with the full gear - snow pants, winter coat, scarf wrapped around my head twice, a toque, and mittens of course. Then I would brave the bitter cold, with my bright red toboggan in tow - loaded to the hilt with papers, to ensure that everyone in our neighborhood received their daily news. I had taken over the route for my best friend when she decided it was time to call it quits. During the week, it wasn’t so bad delivering the paper. They were thin and easy to handle. Saturday morning, on the other hand, was a different story. It was the worst!! The paper was twice as thick and we mustn’t forget the funnies - heaven forbid they would leave those crazy "Peanuts" out just one week. There was also more houses to deliver to because some people only subscribed to the weekend papers.

On quite a few occasions my Dad, though he had been hard at work all week, would get up early on his day off, make a batch of his famous cocoa and meet me half way on my route to share a cup of loving warmth. He made the best cocoa in the world. He would then follow me along in the car while I finished up, and give me a ride back home, so that I wouldn’t have to walk. This is just one of the thousands of little things he did to show how much he loved me. Something that may have seemed small to him, meant so much to me. I used to look forward to the time we would just sit in the warmth of the car chatting. Nothing else was important durring that time. Just the two of us.


Some days, I miss him so much, I feel guilty that I may have taken him for granted. I only hope that I can create some of the same memories with my son that he gave me. These are the legacy that he left. His gentle lovingkindness only surpassed by the Lord himself. Always remembered, never forgotten!

I am reminded of the verse in Psalm chapter 63 verse 3 which states:

"Because Your lovingkindness is better than life," The Nelson Study Bible NKJV.

The commentary states that lovingkindness may also be translated "loyal love". That is the kind of relationship that we should have with our heavenly father. We need to go out and brave the bitter world, with our leather-bound Bible in tow - loaded to the hilt with footnotes, to ensure that everyone in our neighborhood recieves there daily news. Our Father may not be there to meet us with a cup of Cocoa, but he is storing up in heaven the crown of righteousness for those who have served him faithfully. That is how we show our Father lovingkindness.

Munchkin Meets the Goofball

When I was a young tike in my droopy pampers, my dad - like most parents, gave me a cute nickname. I was his little "Munchkin" or "munch" sometimes for short. I never got tired of him calling me that. It was a term of endearment not an insult. My sister was nicknamed the "Goofball" or "Goof" for short. I think she got the short end of the proverbial stick. On the other hand, we were also given the nicknames of #1 and #2. In that respect, I got the short end of the stick. Need I say more?

We are both now the proud new parents of bouncing baby boys, hoping to pass down these beloved names that have been bestowed upon us. They dare not be repeated when the boys are older or it might get them a swirley in the school toilette or stuffed in the class bully’s locker.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with slang terms I have included some definitions from the Reader's Digest Illustrated Encyclopedic Dictionary for your viewing pleasure.
Goof - An incompetent, foolish or stupid person.
Munchkin - Not found in the encyclopedia but is a little person or dwarf-like as seen on the Wizard of Oz.
Swirley - Not found in the encyclopedia but is when a person gets their head shoved in the toilette bowl and the toilette is then flushed.

Ok so only one defenition could be found, but like I said they are slang expressions.

When I think of these names I only have love in my heart. Sure, sometimes I break out into a rendition of "The Lollipop Guild" every once in a while, but the very thought of my dad's smiling face as he tucked me into bed at night, brings warmth to my very soul.

His New Beat-up Pick-up

I was so blessed with the father God gave me. He truly personified the characteristics of our heavenly father.

One record cold winter, a couple of years ago, I was using my dad’s truck for some reason. When I was finished with it, I thought I would do him a favor and park it in the garage, out of the elements. I knew if I didn’t put it in the garage, he would have to do it when he got home anyway. Little did I realize the garage door was quite narrow, and putting the truck in was a precise procedure, like a brain surgeon removing a tumor. While pulling in, I heard a terrible noise! Almost that of someone taking their finger nails and scratching them down a blackboard. Panicked, I slowly backed the truck up, turned it off, and got out to see what I had done. Lo and behold, on the passenger side of the vehicle, there was a two foot scratch in the paint. What was I going to do? Dad loved that truck. He was so happy when he bought it near new only a couple of years prior. Well, being brought up in a good Christian home, I was taught never to tell a lie. The punishment for lying was ten times more severe than if I told the truth. So first thing when he walked in the door from a hard day at work, I sprung the tragic news on him. I didn’t even let him get his still frozen coat off, because I figured if I waited too long, then I might chicken out and not want to tell him of the unspeakable deed. The "truth" hit him like a slap across his frostbitten face. He was mad! I apologized profusely and explained that I was only trying to help. He cooled down surprisingly quickly. In fact I don’t think he said another word about it. So how was my father like our heavenly father?? He loved me unconditionally. No matter what I did in life, and Lord knows I wasn’t a saint, he always hugged me and told me he loved me. I confessed my sin and he forgave me just about instantly.

My dad is not with us anymore. He is gone now to be with our Lord and Savior. I never did get to say good-bye to him, but I have all the confidence in the world that the last words were "Love You!"