Dad

Father's Day 2014 - My dad

When I was a toddler I got a tiny tea set for Christmas.  I carried one of the little cups into the bathroom where our tub had a leaky faucet and filled it for my daddy, who drank it.  So I brought him another cup and another and another.  It was a joyful and, according to my dad, delicious game we were playing together.  When my father had drunk enough "bathroom tea" he got up and followed me into the bathroom to discover that I wasn't getting his tea from the leaky faucet...

When I was 14 my dad made me a special gift for Christmas.  A beautiful hinged 3-way mirror.  I have seen pictures of myself from this time period and they aren't pretty.  My sisters once said after looking through some family pictures, "Wow!  Puberty hit you hard."  Yes, it did.  A sucker punch right to the gut.  I had a pair of large glasses tinted pink at the top with a little apple decal down in the corner.  A helpful aunt had given me my first perm and frizzy is not a strong enough adjective to describe the outcome.  Maybe fried.  Or nuked.  At any rate, I was not a pretty mid-range adolescent.  I have sometimes wondered why he spent time making a beautiful mirror for his not so beautiful daughter...

When I was 23 I returned home from a  18 month mission to the Dominican Republic for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  I was physically and emotionally spent.  But I felt I should get right to work looking for a job - getting on with my life.  My dad quietly said, "Don't worry about taking a little time to rest right now.  There is plenty of time to get a job later."  I think I slept for almost 2 weeks straight.  I didn't realize how exhausted I had been but my dad's permission to rest was such a gift to me.

When I was 37 our family moved to New Hampshire.  My dad drove with Jay to haul our belongings to New England.  My mother flew out with the children and I.  My parents stayed for a little while to help us get settled and then we drove them to the airport.  I was so sad to see them go.  After we hugged goodbye at the airport my dad came around to my side of the car to give me one last hug and kiss.  He whispered in my ear, "Sink your roots down deep here."  That was not my intention at that very moment.  My intention was to bide my time with my family until we could return to the West.  I shared his counsel with Jay and we made a conscious decision to follow his advice.  Our time in New Hampshire was not always easy but it was very growth promoting and beautiful.  I am so glad dad said, "Sink your roots down deep" when as a parent I would rather say something like, "Come home soon."  

When I was 41 we flew home for a summer visit.  On the morning we were to depart my dad had to leave early in the morning for an engagement so he came into the room where I was sleeping to say goodbye. I sat up groggily in bed and he hugged me and kissed me. Then he looked at my face and hugged and kissed me again. I found I couldn't go back to sleep after he left. I just laid there amazed that after all the years of successes and failures, of foolish mistakes and happy memories my dad STILL loved me very, very much. I was still his girl. What an incredible feeling it is to be loved so unconditionally.

Mother's Day 2014

Recently I made a new friend.  One day she asked me, “You seem to be able to see the best in people.  Why?”  The answer came instantly and even startled me a little as it came out of my mouth. “My mother,” I said.  “My mother taught me how to see people.”  My mother is not perfect, but there are parts of her that are close.  This is one of them.

I grew up in a rural farming community.  I had a wonderful childhood.  Even as a child, however, I noticed that some families in our community seemed a little different from the majority of the farm families around us.  They didn’t fit in as easily as more typical families did.  But I noticed that they “fit in” with our family.  Their children were invited to our home and became our playmates and we went to their homes.  I remember overhearing my mother on the telephone with a mother from one of these families.  My mother was calling her “Kid”, (mom’s pet name for her good friends) and laughing, truly enjoying the conversation with this woman toward whom some other mothers were less friendly.  I noted that in my home, every person was valued.  You didn’t have to be witty or smart or exceptionally talented.  You could even have annoying quirks or a dirty face or tell bad jokes.  Your value simply “was”.  You didn’t have to earn it with my mother.

I find myself looking at people the way my mother did, using what I call “Christ’s light”. I picture a lantern powered by the love of the Savior.  When I look at someone I try to hold this lantern up and look at them using this love-powered light. Under its glow the things about others that seem different or weak fade into shadow and the things about them that are eternal and beautiful shine.  Everyone has value.  Everyone has beauty.  You don’t have to earn it.  It just “is”. This is one of the great legacies handed down to me from my mother, Arva Merrill Burton.

What about you?  What legacies are yours because of mothers or mother figures in your life?