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NOTES  FROM  THE  VALLEY - Father's Day - 2001

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of
death, I will fear no evil for you are with me."  Psalm 23.
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TOPIC:  THOUGHTS  ABOUT  DAD

Those of you who have been receiving "Notes" for awhile know how deeply I
love my Dad and how much I have missed him since he was the victim of a
drunk driver 34 years ago.  After all these years, there's still this spot
in my heart that hurts and wishes he were here.  Particularly on Father's
Day.  Cathy is the same way.  We know our Dad's are probably together right
now, sitting on a wide front porch somewhere in God's heaven, overlooking a
sparkling lake or gently flowing river and talking about the two of us.   My
Dad's fussing about how easily I get angry.  Cathy's Dad is wondering why
she still worries so much.  Shaking their heads at our foolishness.  Wishing
we'd remember the lessons they taught us.  Longing to be with us as much as
we long to be with them.

I know not everyone has special feelings about their Dads.  I've also seen
the terrible images of Dads being portrayed in the media these days.
Abusive, insensitive, slovenly, crude, arrogant, ignorant, irresponsible and
intolerant are just a few of the more popular generalizations in vogue.  Al
Bundy used be an absurd joke.  Now he's the equivalent of a Father's Day
poster child.  Is it any wonder that young men today, like our sons Michael,
Jack and Chris, worry if they have what it takes to be good Fathers.  How
did Fathers get such a bad reputation?  I've got my opinions.  I'm sure
everyone does.  But I don't want that to be the focus of this edition.
Instead, I'd like to share some thoughts about what made our Dads so special
to us and some stories about other special Dads too.  In doing so, I hope to
honor our Dads and give some encouragement and guidance to those new and
future Dads who are worried about how they'll do.  Guys - if you've got the
heart to worry about how you'll do, you've got the heart it takes to be a
good Dad too.

Cathy thinks her Dad was handsome.  I think my Dad looked really impressive
in his uniform.  But that's not why we love them.  Neither of our Dad's were
rich.  They worked hard for everything they got and everything they got was
used to provide for the needs of their families.  And they provided for us
really well.  But that's not why we love them.  That hard work took time and
so there was less time to spend with us.  My Dad in particular was gone a
lot (ask any military "brat" and they'll give you the same story).  Neither
of our Dad's were famous.  And both experienced the heartbreak of a failed
marriage.  So, if it wasn't good looks, fame, fortune or perfection that
made our Dads special, what was it?

Although the majority of what I'll share here is about my Dad, they reflect
the same sweet memories and loving thoughts Cathy feels towards her Dad as
well.  They are two of a kind.

Dad was a strong and confident man, yet gentle and quiet.  Some might think
these fairly odd traits for a senior Naval officer.  But Dad just didn't
believe in bullying people.  And to him, yelling and strong armed tactics
were the tools of a bully.  It used to amaze me when I'd see him in uniform
at work and watch how others responded to his directions.   I was so proud
of him as a child.  When I was 17, I enlisted in the Navy so my Dad could
swear me in at the commissioning of his new command.  I was briefly assigned
to that command before my four year college deferment to get my commission
as an officer.  So, for a short period of time, he was my Commanding Officer
too.  And I learned from the guys I served with that my Dad never yelled or
threatened his men.  He didn't command respect, he earned it.  And he never
took credit unless it was due.  He led by the strength of his character,
never by the strength of his arm or voice.

Dad was a demanding man, yet fair and forgiving.  He expected a great deal
out of us by current day standards.  All of us had chores when we were
young, jobs when we got older, and some form of extracurricular involvement
at school (sports or clubs). He believed each of us had physical and mental
gifts God gave us and we needed to find out what they were and use them.  If
we tried something new and succeeded, he was our biggest cheer leader.  If
we failed, he would be the first there to pick us up and express his pride
in our attempt.  He believed that the only real form of failure was not
trying at all.

Dad was a busy man, yet freely giving of his time and support when we needed
him.  No, he wasn't home much.  Particularly during the Korean War.  And he
literally disappeared late one night and was gone for a full eleven months
during the Cuban Missile Crisis/Blockade.  But when he was home, oh how I
enjoyed being with him.  He loved the swings in our backyard and would push
us or swing along side while we talked.   I think there was a part of my Dad
that was still a child and he liked letting that part out to play as often
as possible with us.

I think Dad really enjoyed me playing football in High School.  And after
the games, whether we won or lost, my Dad would invite the team (and their
dates) over to the house for sodas and popcorn to celebrate our competitive
effort.  Mom in the livingroom with the girls and Dad in the backyard
surrounded by the guys.  Talking and sharing.  Dad had a great laugh.  It
infected us all.  As many as a hundred teenagers at the house on Friday
nights during football season, but never a complaint from a neighbor or a
single outbreak of trouble.  Dad treated everyone with respect and received
their respect in return.

And Dad was a man of integrity.  Dad never lied to Mom or to us about
anything.  And the toughest punishments we ever faced came if we ever
crossed that line between the truth and a lie.

So many great memories.  But for all the wonderful memories Cathy and I have
of our Dads, it wasn't what they did for us that made them special.  It was
the motivation behind everything they did.  It was their love for us.  Love
that gave without expecting in return.  Love that didn't set conditions
before it was given.  Love that would put everything on the line for us
without hesitation.  In the midst of remembering that love, I'm also
reminded of the scripture that says, "If you, then, though you are evil,
know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father
in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!"  (Matthew 7:11 NIV)

Please take a moment to reflect on those words this Father's Day.  There is
a Father who waits for us with more love than we can imagine and more
blessings that we are capable of receiving.  He is our heavenly Father.  Our
Abba Father.  Literally our "Daddy."  And His love and blessings are poised
and ready to be poured out upon us in an overtaking flood if we will just
come to Him as His children and ASK!!!

"Happy Father's Day."

I am as always - your brother and His grateful child,

Steve Hall



" WHEN  GOD  CREATED  FATHERS "
(Author Erma Bombeck)

When the good Lord was creating Fathers, He started with a tall frame.  An
angel nearby said, "What kind of Father is that?  If you're going to make
children so close to the ground, why have you put the Fathers up so high?
He won't be able to shoot a marble without kneeling, play pretend drinking
tea, tuck a child in bed without bending, or even kiss a child without a lot
of stooping."  God smiled and said, "Yes, but if I make him child-size, who
would children have to look up to?"

And when God made a Father's hands, they were large.  The angel shook her
head sadly and said, "Do you know what you are doing? Large hands are
clumsy. They can't manage diaper pins, small buttons, rubber bands on pony
tails, or even remove splinters caused by baseball bats."   Again God smiled
and said, "I know, but they're large enough to hold everything a small boy
empties from his pockets, all his daughter's paper dolls, jump rope, yet
small enough to cup a child's face in his hands."

Then God molded long slim legs and broad shoulders.  The angel nearly had a
heart attack. "Do you realize you just made a Father without a lap? How is
he going to pull a child close to him without the kid falling between his
legs?"  God smiled and said, "A Mother needs a lap. A Father needs strong
shoulders to pull a wagon, to balance a child on a bicycle, or to hold a
sleepy head on the way home from the circus."
When God was in the middle of creating two of the largest feet anyone had
ever seen, the angel giggled and could not contain herself any longer.
"That's not fair. Do you honestly think those large boats are going to get
out of bed early in the morning when the baby cries? Or walk through a
birthday party without crushing one or two of the guests?"  Again God smiled
and said, "It will work, you'll see. It will support a small child who wants
to ride a horse to Banbury Cross, or scare mice away from a summer cabin, or
walk in shoes that will be a challenge to fill."

God worked throughout the night, giving the Father few words, but a firm
authoritative voice; eyes that could see everything, yet remain calm and
tolerant.  Finally, almost as an after-thought, He added tears. Then he
turned to the angel and said, "Now are you satisfied that he can love as
much as a Mother can?"  The angel said nothing more.



THE  HAPPINESS  OF  BEING  FOUND
(Author - James W. Moore, "Yes, Lord I Have Sinned, But I Have Some
Excellent Excuses")

When I was seven, I got lost at Ringling Brothers' Circus. More than twenty
thousand people were there that night.  My older brother Bob, who was nine,
had taken me by the hand down one of the exit ramps from the arena to the
crowded concession stand to get some cotton candy.  There were no neat
lines.  People were pushing and pressing toward the counter, trying to get
the vendor's attention.  Since my brother was taller, the cotton-candy man
saw him and served him first; Bob then stepped to the side to wait for me.

At least, he meant to wait for me. But just then loud laughter came from the
arena, followed by thunderous applause and fireworks.  The ringmaster's
voice exploded over the public address system, introducing the clowns, the
main act we wanted to see.  My brother didn't mean to leave me, but the
excitement was just too much for him, and he ran back up the ramp to catch a
glimpse of the clowns.  He meant to wait for me there, but a policeman told
him he couldn't stand there and asked to see his ticket stub. When Bob
fished into his pocket, he came up with two ticket stubs-his and mine, so
the policeman promptly escorted him to his seat.

By this time, I had my cotton candy, and I looked toward the spot where my
brother had been standing only moments before.  But now he was gone, and I
felt sick deep down in the pit of my stomach. I was scared to death!  I was
all alone in that huge crowd! I didn't know which ramp to go up; I didn't
know which section our seats were in.  All the ramps and entrances looked
the same.  I couldn't find my ticket stub, and to top it off, I had lost my
appetite for cotton candy.  Terrified now, I went up the wrong ramp, and
when I entered the huge auditorium, I turned the wrong way!  Nothing looked
familiar.  I wondered if I would ever see my family again.  I started to
run, trying (not too successfully) to fight back the tears.  Panic-stricken,
I looked frantically for a familiar sign or a friendly face, but all eyes
were riveted on the clowns in the center of the arena. Everyone was laughing
loudly at the antics of the clowns.  They weren't funny to me at that
moment. I remember thinking, "How can they laugh at a time like this? How
can they laugh when I feel so lost?"

Just then I felt a touch on my shoulder.  I turned around, to be gathered up
into strong loving arms.  It was my dad.  My father had come after me and
had found me.  It was a good thing he did, because I was running as fast as
my tired, scared legs would carry me-in the wrong direction.  He held me,
calmed me down, reassured me, then took me downstairs and bought me a Coke,
a hot dog, a Yo-Yo, a lizard, a little stuffed bear, and a candy apple.  I
learned a valuable lesson that day: Being lost is terrible, but being found
is wonderful!



PHONE  HOME
(Author - Dennis Miller, Leadership)

Out of parental concern and a desire to teach our young son responsibility,
we require him to phone home when he arrives at his friend's house a few
blocks away. He began to forget, however as he grew more confident in his
ability to get there without disaster befalling him. The first time he
forgot, I called to be sure he had arrived. We told him the next time it
happened, he would have to come home. A few days later, however, the
telephone again lay silent, and I knew if he was going to learn he would
have to be punished. But I did not want to punish him! I went to the
telephone, regretting that his great time would have to be spoiled by his
lack of contact with his father. As I dialed, I prayed for wisdom. "Treat
him like I treat you," the Lord seemed to say. With that, as the telephone
rang one time, I hung up. A few seconds later the phone rang, and it was my
son.

"I'm here, Dad!"

"What took you so long to call?" I asked.

"We started playing and I forgot. But Dad, I heard the phone ring once and I
remembered."

"I'm glad you remembered," I said. "Have fun."

How often do we think of God as One who waits to punish us when we step out
of line? I wonder how often he rings just once, hoping we will phone home.

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Copyright © 1998-2001 by Stephen J. Hall  -   Weekly letters of
encouragement to Christians written by Stephen J. Hall unless otherwise
indicated.  Notes from the Valley and Humor from the Valley are meant to
brighten your day and encourage you along the way.  Most of "Notes" and
"Humor" are a collection of items provided to me by subscribers and friends.
Credit is given to both the contributor and to the true author, where known.
If you are blessed by them, please feel free to make copies and pass them
along to others.  If you have something you'd like to contribute to a future
edition or would like to ask us a question or make a comment, please contact
us at:

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Your love, God, is my song, and I'll sing it!  I'm forever telling everyone
how faithful you are.  I'll never quit telling the story of your love - how
you built the cosmos and guaranteed everything in it.  Your love has always
been our lives foundation, your fidelity has been the roof over our world.
(Psalm 89:1-3 The Message)