A Note for Father's Day

Fathers, do not

exasperate your children;

instead, bring them up in the training

and instruction of the Lord.

—Ephesians 6:4

With Father’s Day around the corner, I’ve been thinking about my dad. There are a number of great stories I could share, but with trepidation, I’ve chosen one of my earliest memories.

When I was eight years old, I won the art contest at my Catholic school for a watercolor painting I submitted. I admit, it was an impressive piece of work for a second grader. But it wasn’t entirely mine. Much of the painting had been done by my father.

After painting dark purple and blue flowers, I saturated my brush in red paint to fill in the petals of a rose. As the paint was being absorbed into the paper, my father grabbed my fist, dunked the brush into the water, and with his large hand totally enveloping mine, he gently thinned the thick paint to create light. I did not have the required skill or the dexterity to pull this move off without assistance. Before letting go of my hand, he added light blue swirls and firmly directed me not to add any more paint to what we had already applied. 

While Dad’s intentions were honorable, the results left an indelible impression on my heart and soul. To this day, I still feel a sense of remorse when I think about accepting that tiny first-place trophy. I don’t know what became of it—but I still have the painting. Why did I keep it? Good question.

My father, an engineer by trade, was a true artist at heart. Before he married and had a family, he painted, drew, and created beauty in a variety of forms. He even went as far as to sew a dress for my mother when they were dating to demonstrate his love and commitment. (Mom said it was beautiful and fit perfectly!)

Dad’s artistic abilities manifested in various ways over the years. When I was a small child, he sculpted snow figures on our front lawn that often made it into the local paper. When I was in sixth grade, he drew my campaign posters for student council president based on comic book characters. They were amazing, and I won the election. When I was in college, Dad built me a loft bed with a bench and retractable table. On special occasions, he was known to write long poems or new words to an old song. Later in life, Dad grew an amazing flower garden and arranged beautiful bouquets for the church altar. Whenever he came to my house for a holiday dinner, I would task him with making name cards for the table because they were always works of art.

I’m reminded of my father every time I read about Bezalel in the book of Exodus. “[God] has filled him with the Spirit of God, with wisdom, with understanding, with knowledge and with all kinds of skills—to make artistic designs for work in gold, silver and bronze, to cut and set stones, to work in wood and to engage in all kinds of artistic crafts” (Exodus 35:31-33).

Dad died in December of 2023, a month after receiving an Ambassador for Peace award for his Marine Corp service in the Korean War. At age 92, he didn’t create much art anymore, but he still had an eye for beauty. He was a man of few words, who preferred to express himself through his artwork—creating, singing, writing, drawing, or painting—rather than with compliments or encouragement.

So why did I keep the watercolor painting that brings me remorse? Because it also brings me peace. For all the things my father never said, I can see both his love and his pain in the brushstrokes.

Two months before this picture was painted, my six-year-old brother died of cancer. Undoubtedly, my father was still grieving when he grabbed my hand to thin out the red paint. I suspect the dark purple and blue were too heavy for his broken heart. Attempting to make sense out of pain, Dad grabbed my hand and lightened the remaining flowers, shifting the focus from gloom to hope, “a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair” (Isaiah 61:3). 

My father and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye, and none of his children acquired his amazing artistic skills, but what he passed on to each of us was loyalty to family, a commitment to hard work, and a love of God. These are the things I am most grateful for and what fatherhood is really all about. Thanks, Dad.

Happy Father’s Day.

SHARING A FAVORITE SONG: The Father’s House by Cory Asbury (Bethel Music)

Favorite lyric: "Miracles take place. The cynical find faith. And love is breaking through when the Father's in the room."