The country road I most often take to the highway has been laden with memories this past week. I cannot drive this way without smiling and shedding a few tears. For the day lilies are growing wild by the hundreds... as they do each year around Father's Day. Just as they did in my childhood. Which is why each Father's Day I honor my father with this blog post.
I don't have a lot of clear memories of my father since he passed away
suddenly when I was only ten years old. However, one memory that I have
shared with my husband and children is the clearest of all...that of
Dad and the ditch lilies.
We lived in an old farmhouse when I was a small child. It had only
enough land for a hand full of animals, some chickens, and a huge garden. It sat
across from a grain elevator, at the corner where two gravel roads
met. We had a few neighbors, mostly other smallish houses, what we
would call "hobby farms" these days. Between us and the various towns
in different directions, there were some "real farms" where one would
find acres and acres of tall stalks of corn or soybeans growing each summer.
Train tracks separated our house and the tall grain elevator. To this
day, I love the sound of the train whistles in the distance. You don't
hear them much around here anymore. I remember taking walks with my dad
along those roads when the evening had cooled enough to make the
gravel more comfortable...for they can get quite hot for little feet.
Dad was around 6'3" tall and I was but a little girl when we lived on
this gravel road. So it probably is understandable that my memories of
both him and day lilies are that they were both huge!
We didn't call them day lilies in our neck of the woods...they were
always known as ditch lilies, for they grew wild in the ditches each
summer. That's why I was thinking of him this week. It wasn't the
gorgeous yellow day lilies growing along our backyard fence, nor the
orange lilies next to the house, both planted by previous owners. It
wasn't the lilac colored day lilies my husband planted this year. No, it
was the old fashioned deep orange day lilies growing in the ditches on
the roads I travel most of the time...the roads that take me "to the
country". The same kind of lilies that sent us out for a walk in the
evening...on gravel roads.
My dad was not an educated man as such. He only finished 8th grade, a
practice very common to men of that and previous generations. Back
then, many boys had to leave their formal schooling at that age to
begin working. However, he knew a lot about the important things of
life like flowers, and building things, stopping on trips to take
pictures of animals in the field and whatever else grabbed his
attention, hunting, fishing, and how to love daughters. People who knew
him used to talk about his kindness.
I've been told many times that he cried when I was born because he had
wanted a little girl so badly. Since this was a second marriage for
both (he being divorced many years and my mother a widow with seven
children when they married), and mom was well into her 40s, my siblings
thought their mother had died giving birth only to find out he was
crying because they had a little girl!
I only had him around for ten years but I learned a lot from him. Not
so much in formal learning but the kind that is absorbed by small
children, those lessons we pick up when the older folks don't know
children are looking and listening. I've been called a kind person,
that's definitely from Dad. I love flowers, gardens, creeks, and small
creatures of the woods...definitely from Dad...although I prefer to
admire the small creatures from a distance rather than having them for
dinner. :)
I never had a chance to say goodbye but I've prayed for years that in
the hours Dad knew he was dying, he remembered the Gospel and made
peace with his Creator. How I would love to know that the tall, gentle
man with the hands calloused from "building things" would be there
waiting for his girl. I'm certain God will let there be plenty of ditch
lilies in Heaven.
Image: Google
5 comments:
Beautiful memories of your Dad.
I hope GOD will someway give you assurance that your Dad will be in Eternity waiting for you. It surely sounds as if GOD was a part of his life...where did the goodness and kindness come from?? My dear Grampie I never heard if he ever "converted" in the sense people expected...but a kinder more loving person I have never known!! And there is not a shred of doubt in my mind he awaits me one day...because if he is not there...no one will be!! I hope you feel that way about your dear Dad...and how fortunate you were to have had a loving kind one...how fortunate beyond words...how do I know? Because mine was often extremely cruel and harsh and anything but loving (and he never touched a drop of alcohol...and thought he was the best Christian on this planet). Mental illness no doubt...what else could that be? But I had a superb mother and her parents who were everything a follower of GOD ought to be. And with no trumpeting themselves from rooftops, EVER!! Today is a mixed day of emotions for me as well...but different from yours. Elizabeth in WA
Beautiful loving post. You have a wonderful way with words to paint pictures and elicit emotion. Your Dad sounds very much like mine -- their generation so different from ours today. We were blessed.
Wow, this is beautiful, my friend. What a lovely memory to hold in your heart. Pam (SD)
How interesting that among your memories is one that is reinforced every year....♥
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