It’s hard to believe that nearly three years have gone by since my father passed away.
This Father’s Day, as we honor the amazing dads in our lives, I’m reflecting on the significant influence my father had on me.
From my childhood, he imparted lessons that have really shaped who I’ve become.
Like everyone, he had his faults and faced his own challenges. He was human, after all. I truly miss him, yet I feel grateful for the timeless values he shared with me and the wisdom he passed on.
Character Over Reputation
One major lesson Dad taught me was that our character and integrity far outweigh our reputation. Our words define us, echoing the principle from Matthew 5:37: “Let your yes be yes, and your no be no.”
I recall multiple times as a kid committing to plans, only to find something more exciting was happening at the same time. It was tempting to ditch what I had initially promised, but my dad always reminded me that true character is shown in how we honor our commitments, regardless of how popular the opportunity may appear.
He instilled in me the idea that being faithful in small matters is crucial because God calls us to engage wholeheartedly.
This lesson was tough as a kid, and honestly, it still can be. But over time, I’ve realized that being steadfast in our words ultimately creates something beyond mere reputation: it fosters genuine trust.
Dad was someone who interacted honestly with everyone. He never cut corners or altered the truth. If he said he’d be somewhere—he was there. If he sold a car, you’d walk away knowing everything you needed to know—perhaps even more than anticipated. He cared about doing right by people, rather than just closing a good deal.
Such reliability shaped how I aspire to live. His model encouraged me to remain committed, to be honest, and to prioritize being trusted over being liked. At the end of the day, our character and integrity reflect not just who we are but also the God we serve.
Work Ethic and Perseverance
Honestly, I think my dad was one of the hardest workers I’ve ever known.
His work ethic and determination were truly commendable. Very few tasks were beyond his skill set—either natural or learned through sheer willpower. He was an engineer by trade, but his work didn’t stop when he clocked out. When he wasn’t tackling complex challenges at work, he was changing oil on his kids’ cars, fixing things around the house, or building projects like computer repairs and decks.
If something was needed, he either had the know-how or figured it out. His ability to take ownership of his responsibilities with excellence was unmatched.
With nine kids at home, time for leisure or hobbies was scarce, especially with the wear and tear that came with the territory. But he forged ahead—often too much, I think.
Through his diligence, he taught me that even the simplest tasks last longer and mean more than talent alone. He embodied faithfulness in every endeavor. As Colossians 3:23 reminds us, we are to work heartily because we’re really working for Him.
My father didn’t just preach hard work; he lived it—not for recognition, but because it was simply the right thing to do.
One of his key lessons was that sustainability over time matters. Proverbs 13:11 tells us, “Wealth gained hastily will dwindle, but he who gathers little by little will increase it.” My father firmly believed in that gradual approach.
Once, feeling overwhelmed by an academic workload, I went to him for support. Without needing all the details, he gently asked, “What’s wrong?” We talked about how heavy the workload felt. With a kind smile, he posed a familiar question, “How do you eat an elephant?”
I groaned, but I knew the answer: “One bite at a time.”
That simple phrase shared in a stressful moment has stuck with me. Whenever life gets overwhelming, I hear his voice reminding me that I don’t have to tackle everything at once—just focus on the next step.
Facing Fear and Taking Risks
Dad consistently encouraged me to confront fear head-on. Whether it was trying something new or dealing with the opinions of others, he emphasized that courage isn’t the absence of fear; it’s choosing to take a step forward anyway.
Ironically, he was a cautious man in many areas of his life. He double-checked the locks on the doors, thoroughly read instruction manuals, and avoided unnecessary risks. Yet, when it came to activities like dirt biking, he’d pay attention to the wind, showing a kind of boldness that surfaced when it really mattered.
He taught me that it’s possible to approach life with care and wisdom while also being brave when the situation calls for it.
Once, I’d never ridden a dirt bike before. Dad figured if I could handle a stick shift, I could manage a motocross bike—it’s the same idea, right? After a few quick instructions, he handed me the bike and urged me to go. I was terrified, but he wasn’t. He believed I could do it, and more importantly, he believed I could overcome my fears.
A similar situation arose when I first got my learner’s permit. Out of the blue, he told me to hit the highway. “You’re fine,” he said effortlessly. “You can do this.” I was shocked at his trust in me. That trust helped me learn to trust myself. He perceived potential in me that I hadn’t yet seen, knowing that growth often means pushing past our fears.
In college, fear crept back in when faced with a tough class. I remember anxiously calling him about potentially failing. Despite my effort, I was getting shaky grades, and my anxiety was building. He patiently listened and asked if I was studying hard. I said yes. Then he simply replied.
He reminded me that any strength we possess is a divine gift, not something we create on our own.
I may have hesitated, but that wasn’t the main takeaway. A C might not have been ideal, yet it would have been a lesson in humility for me. The key was learning to let go of the fear of failure and trust the process—as well as God.
This lesson has guided me beyond academics. My father taught me that fear, not failure, is the true enemy. Sometimes, all we need is faith, courage, and a dash of grace to help us move forward.
Embracing Self-Sufficiency
As my dad faced ALS—gradually losing the ability to move, talk, eat, and breathe—he offered profound advice I needed to hear.
We often confuse strength with self-sufficiency. Each admirable trait has its weaknesses, and this is no exception. Because he could navigate life’s challenges and had an unwavering resolve, Dad might as well have taken home a gold medal for self-sufficiency.
Yet, he stressed that any capability we have is ultimately a gift from God. Our talents aren’t just ours to claim; they should be utilized to bless others and honor God. It’s not about our strength; it’s about relying on Him.
Our conversation was calm and hit home where it needed to. I take pride in my skills and the efforts I’ve invested to refine them, but in the end, it’s God who grants the health, drive, and ability to accomplish what I do.
Dad clearly saw this weakness and generously shared one last valuable lesson I’m still learning: a surrendered life holds greater worth than one focused solely on self-sufficiency. After all, that’s what God desires from us.
