Worth of a Father

What would you think of a father who signed his letters to his children, “Cordially, Dad?” Well that is how my father signed them to my brothers, my sister and me; we always thought it odd, and by American standards, I have to say that it was.
What should that say about his feelings for his children? It would suggest a certain distance from us, and perhaps there was. I feel sure that that is the way he felt, and let me tell you why. As children, even though he did not hug us or ever tell us that he loved us, he always supported his family. He worked at the White Sands Missile Range, requiring him to leave the house at 5:30 a.m., not to return till 5:30 p.m.
He brought his work home and worked on it until midnight for as long as I can remember. Over time he accumulated a number of residential houses in the neighborhood and on weekends one of us would accompany him with his tool bucket to replace a hot-water heater, fix the plumbing, or to do whatever was needed at one of them.
All of us boys delivered newspapers for the local paper, and when the newspaper had a subscription drive, he would organize us to canvas the town. Because he was highly structured and taught us the techniques, we won some great prizes.
After we worked hard and earned money, he encouraged us to save a portion. I remember his coming into my room, asking me how much I had earned, then suggesting an amount that should go into savings. I did not tell him but I had already saved more than he suggested, because his ways had already rubbed off on me so.
Neither he nor mother was a “helicopter” parent, and from early on, we were seldom at home. One night, however, when I was in the eighth grade, I went with my science teacher to the next town to trade coins, because we were both coin collectors. He dropped me off at the house at 3 a.m.. When I walked in, Mother and Dad were waiting for me. All they said was, “Art, where were you? We were worried about you.” Dad got two hours sleep that night.
Education was important to him, and he wanted to make sure that we all got college degrees. He crafted a plan to see that that happened.
As my brother, Dan, grew older, Dad and he did not get along. Dan pushed back from Dad’s Swiss-German ways, and did not come to understand until after Dad’s death, that Dad cared about him. Being a father was a struggle for Dad, and his ability to relate to Dan was a source of great pain to him. When I was struggling in my relationship to our older son, Dennis, I sat down with Dad for advice. He told me, suppressing his emotion, that his ways with Dan were wrong, and that rather than laying down the law to my son, be sure that he sees that you care – this was not the dad I had known; this was a changed man.
My father loved his children in the only way that he knew how to love us. He always did his uttermost best for us, and I thank the Lord God in heaven for him. What is the worth of a father? I can only say, the worth of MY father is beyond a human measure.
Art Hall
From the Bible: From Proverbs 6: Correction and self-control will lead you through life.