My father (Terry L. Baker) passed away back in 1991. I miss him very much.
One of the fondest memories I have is running and jumping into his lap after he came home from work. I can still remember the smell, too. You see, my dad worked in an auto machine shop and was very acquainted with sweat, grease, metal shavings, and Varsol. But even his words of “Don’t jump on me, son, I stink” never made a difference. When he finally got home, all I wanted to do was run to him (tears fill my eyes as I write this).
Another memory is his old (new then) 1968 Ford truck. It didn’t matter where I was, whether it be at school, the baby sitter, a friend’s house, or wherever; the sound of his truck was as distinctive as a fingerprint. I could hear him drive into a driveway, but more precisely, I could hear the distinct, redemptive sound of the shutting of the door. Whenever I heard that sound it meant my dad was there to take me away with him. What I wouldn’t give to hear that sound in my driveway right now.
I miss my daddy. I miss being his son. When everything seemed scary, wrong, broken, or hopeless, my dad would show up and let me know everything would be alright. Even when I got too big to jump into his lap, just being with him made me feel safe, loved, accepted, and never alone or intimidated. He was our family’s rock.
There are also times when I miss my God.
For example, I have been taking a required biology class which requires me to read a secular, humanistic textbook. Do you know how hard it is to experience the joy of learning when all you read is telling you that your Heavenly Father is a myth? I can see His handiwork in the obvious design of this world, all the way down to the sub-atomic level, yet I am told “evolution” is my “real” parent. Why shouldn’t it make me feel cold and alone?
Also, I have been surfing the “tags” on WordPress.com. How depressing it is to find that so many of the articles included under the tags of “religion,” “Christianity,” and “God” are all hateful, atheistic, snide comments made by self-justifying Libertines secretly hoping God is a lie. Sometimes, on occasion, I don’t want to read them for fear that they might be right, and I might be alone, that there is no hope, and that life is meaningless.
That’s when I cry, “Abba!“ That’s when I just want to run into His arms, jump in His lap, feel His embrace, and stick my tongue out at all the ones that deny Him.
I don’t know what it will sound like when my Father comes to take me home. I may hear the sound of a trumpet, or He may just whisper in my ear while I sleep. But if God had a truck…..well, I’ll recognize the sound, whatever it is.
“And now, little children, abide in him; that, when he shall appear, we may have confidence, and not be ashamed before him at his coming.” – 1 John 2:28 KJV
(Even now, tears fill my eyes more than before as the Hope of Glory fills my longing soul. But if He ain’t your Daddy, you wouldn’t understand.)
- “Me and God” (i4daily.wordpress.com)