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My Dad & The Polaroids

My dad died last December 8th, not with grandeur or with honor, but in a
nursing home struggling with Alzheimers. I hated the disease for it had
reduced this robust man to just a shadow of who he was. I was so glad death
had finally come because this was not the man I knew, it was finally over. He
had this "springy" hair on the top of his head and I brushed it back and kissed
him goodbye; I thanked him for doing the best he knew with what he had, for
he had not had a dad growing up.

Walking away, I laughed a little; you see, I remembered those crazy
"Polaroids" he took every Christmas. It's funny the thoughts that come to your
mind in those times, but I could see these "60 second" snapshots he would
take only at Christmas. My dad never had a cellphone, never saw a computer,
never experienced renting a movie, but he loved this camera - it was his third
camera he had slowly broken two others. Maybe it was because instantly he
could see his pictures, and on Christmas, ultimately at his home or mine, he
was armed with his camera. Out would come one picture, then another, like a
camera giving birth to those "60 second Polaroids". I laughed because I was
so proud of this man. He never took me hunting or fishing, didn't teach me to
drive, or lead me as a Boy Scout, but he did teach me about:

The value of family: He came from a family of seven boys, all in the war at
the same time, but together at Christmas - they were kids again! Like most
families it was Christmas Eve at one house, Christmas Day at another. The
grandmas were all alive (no grandpas), so for my dad caring for them was no
option.

The value of the local church and worship: He'd sing so loud and "off key" it
was embarrassing, but his joy was so great it was contagious. Mother said he
never missed a Sunday except when his father died. I remember him shoveling
snow out of the driveway to get the car out to go to church.

The value of work: Even in his 70's he could work me to death.

The value of loving your wife: How often at Christmas he would make a big
deal of buying for her; we were shocked for he didn't buy anything that year
but for Christmas he always wanted everyone to have enough, even visiting
strangers.

The value of the example of loving Jesus: This man knew Jesus in ways I
couldn't imagine and as I would watch him speak about his love - I wanted it.
He was confident of the gospel and would often ask strangers, "Do you know
my Jesus?" Thank you dad for that gift!

The value of "old Polaroids": Full of memories of crazy hair styles, polyester
"leisure suits" (I'll explain later) and a gentleness and warmth that made all
want to come home for Christmas.

So this Christmas, I encourage you, take a few "POLAROIDS" and enjoy each
other with gifts and a lot of laughter but keep Jesus in the center, and for you
dads - remember, even your older kids are taking notes - "so make a memory"
- know what the Scripture means when it says in I Thessalonians 2:8, 11:

Having a fond affection for you, we were well pleased to impart to you not
only the Gospel but our own lives, because you were very dear to us...we
dealt with each of you as a father deals with his own children, encouraging,
comforting and urging you to live lives worthy of God, who calls you
into His kingdom and glory."

So death came, expecting to end his soul for loss and yet because of "his
Jesus" death had no victory, no real power over his worn out body. He
instantly went home refreshed to inherit his Father. This is my greatest joy
knowing he is forever with his Lord.

He left me a legacy of a worn out Bible, a love for family, church, his Jesus,
and yes, "Polaroids". I wonder if they take pictures in heaven?

Have a Great Christmas!

Julian