Today is Father’s Day. I’m sitting on a balcony overlooking the lazy Bouie River in a beautiful bed & breakfast with my favorite man. So, it’s been a good day, one that started, as it should, in God’s house, with worship and praise, and is closing with quiet reflection on a lifetime of blessings.
We spent the evening at the movie, watching “The Green Lantern”. Great flick, meant for mindless entertainment. I guess the combination of the day set aside for Father’s and a movie about facing and overcoming fear were too much for my mind, and I was flooded with thankfulness for the men in my life who have taught me the meaning of overcoming fear.
When I was a young teen, I remember my Dad telling me a story about his childhood and learning to overcome fear. I wish I could remember the full tale. My dad was a wonderful story teller in his day, and I’m sure added his own embellishments. The details of this story elude me. It involved my grandmother, a frying pan, and a critter, but that’s really all I can come up with. What I do remember was the “moral” of the tale. It ended with my grandmother telling my dad that no matter what else happens, you have to learn to face your “boogers.” What ever those may be. “Face your boogers” became sort of a motto for me. Whether Daddy intended that or not, I don’t know. But, it helped me overcome my fears during some tense moments of my life. Learning to dig deep and draw on that well of faith that lies buried deep within me – I know my Daddy did intend for that to happen. He was very intentional about teaching me about faith. He lived it, modeled it, taught it. I’m so thankful.
My sister and I had a conversation about that just the other day. I made the remark that if I could give my children, nieces, nephews, their friends, and my friends one thing, it would be my faith. I wouldn’t leave them money, even if I had it, I would leave them my faith. She reminded me that, unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. They will each have to travel the paths of their own journeys in order to build that deep pool of faith to keep in reserve. That’s true, but I know that my faith pool was started at the knees of my sweet daddy. The legacy he is leaving me is a rich one. Not by the world’s standards, maybe, but certainly by God’s. And, although I can’t give my faith away, I can share it. That’s surely the beginning of everyone’s journey, seeing faith in action. I pray that I can be faithful to that legacy.
What does this have to do with running? Nothing and everything. I wouldn’t be on this journey without the legacy of faith my father, then my husband, have built for me. I’m very humbly thankful.