I am writing this post in haste.  Forgive me if it does not flow well, but I feel like I am running a race.   You see, my dad may not be doing well.  He is having some symptoms that seem serious to me.  At 94 years old, everyday my dad lives he is spitting death in the eye – taunting death to put up a losing fight.  I am convinced that my dad wears secret boxing gloves, and that he is the world’s heavyweight champion.  I get a special thrill to say, “my dad is 94!” – and I don’t want it to end.

I made a promise to my son that I would pay tribute to “Grandpa Bud” on my blog using the present tense.  Since that promise, I knew that I needed to get writing, but I did not know where to begin.  How do I write about someone who has meant everything to me and do it justice?  I cannot, but I will try to get at a few words out there.

My dad’s life is literally a book.  As a young boy growing up in the Depression, he supported his family by passing the newspaper.  His mother would cry when he handed her his weekly salary.  My dad lost his mom as a teenager to epilepsy.  Shortly thereafter, he enlisted in the army to fight WWII.  He was a bridge builder and was in France and Germany.  He made it home and met my mom.  They married in 1949 – on my mom’s golden birthday.  Dad became an electrician and worked at US Steel.  His compassion for workers led him to become a union leader.  He once threatened management to a full-mill shutdown.  He won.  In the meantime, along came eight children.  He survived losing his wife and a son (“the hardest thing I’ve ever done”) and he lives on his own. He battles health issues, mainly a very bad back that has hurt since 1942.  Is your head spinning yet?

There is so much about my dad.  The wisdom in his body makes him a giant.  Whenever I walk into my dad’s house, I am greeted by a huge smile and a “Hi, Mick!”  It is mind blowing.  Always a positive attitude – never complaining.  He recently said “I am ready to go look for your mom.”  What a loving, poetic way to say that he is coming to an end.  My dad tells me that “tomorrow always comes,” – not to let life’s trials bring me down.  His faith in God is unwavering.  My dad is an expert on fighting life’s trials. He is the reigning heavyweight champion.

Please pray for my dad.  Whatever happens, I know I will be writing about my dad for the rest of my life.  He has bestowed on me so many pearls that I will have to give them out a little at a time.  That makes him the biggest pearl of all.