Tribute to my Dads (Shared at my dad's Homegoing)

There’s a command in Scripture that has a promise attached to it.  It says this:  “Honor your father and mother…that it may go well with you and that you may live long in the land.”  It’s my desire that what is said here today about my dad will be honoring to him.  I also want what I say about him to be honest.

            At age 33, I sat down with my Bible and wrote my dad’s name in one column on a piece of paper.  In the other, I wrote God’s name.  I listed their characteristics and compared them.  Through my tears I saw the vast disparity between the kind of father my dad was and the kind of Father God is.  I had to make a heart shift to believe that my Heavenly Father was all that He claimed to be because my dad’s reflection of Him was so distorted.  Of course that’s true of all of us.  None of us are sinless… none of us are perfect.  I wasn’t the ideal daughter either.

            Many of you know my dad from work.  You know him to be a man of integrity, a hard worker, one who demanded perfection, skilled, talented, a man with a strong handshake and an unshakeable countenance.  Others of you know him from his leisure time.  If you’ve golfed with him, you know his love for the game, his determination and his joy.  Maybe you even know about his ability to watch the PGA and sleep at the same time.

            But as his daughter, I have the ability to fill in some blanks.  For instance, dad could be a hard man.  He had high standards and the same perfection he demanded in the workplace, he demanded in his home.  As a child, if I’m honest, I feared him more than I enjoyed him.  He was not an affectionate man.  He had some vices that brought turmoil to our home.  The fact of the matter is:  he was an imperfect man who fought hard to be perfect.  And fell far short of the goal – just like the rest of us.

            Dad’s faith in Christ was a private matter.  He told me that he received Jesus as his Savior in his teens at a church camp.  He wasn’t one to elaborate… and he didn’t.  I had my doubts about his commitment to Christ back then.  We didn’t have the typical father-daughter relationship.  It was missing the key ingredients of daily “I love you’s” and trust and hugs and tender moments.  That just wasn’t dad’s way.    Sadly, I figured he loved me only because he had to.  But something happened later.  I can pinpoint the day I noticed the difference.  I was in my late 30’s.  I had gone to my parents for a visit and before I left, dad hugged me and said, “I love you gal.”  That was new… and profound… and life-changing.  He was different.  Because he was so private, he never said what turned him around.  But I know.  I know that God removed my dad’s heart of stone and gave him a soft heart, one that wanted to believe God and follow Him, and a heart that wanted to make right the mistakes he made.  And he made them right.

            He attended all of his grandkids graduations and delighted in them.  In these last 3 years, my father travelled even with his ill health to all 3 of my kid’s weddings – a sacrifice on his part that I am deeply grateful for.  There were countless ways that my dad’s life changed.  He was kinder and more patient.  His temper was less noticeable.  He served people whole- heartedly.  He read his Bible faithfully.  He gave more.  He laughed more.  He loved my mom more.  He loved us children more. But the greatest gift to me has actually been just recently.

            My parents have been married for 55 years.  I watched them dance at my son, Luke’s, wedding.  It was an anniversary dance.  Jon and I, Bryan and Janet, Steven and Christine were the last couples standing with them until they were left on the floor alone.  Dad had saved his strength all evening for that one dance with his bride.  There wasn’t a dry eye in the room.  But the tears that Bryan, Steven, and I shared were the most telling.  You see, WE know the commitment of those 55 years.  We know what God did to keep our parents marriage together.  And we know what God has done to keep our own marriages together.  My parents’ example is one of perseverance and love that has been through the toughest of the toughest trials and won.  This last week I watched my parents love one another.  It was supernatural.  God’s grace sustained them and I saw the love of God moving in my dad in every coy wave of the hand, in every wrinkle of his nose, in every eyebrow that was lifted, in every raspy word he mouthed.  His eyes delighted in my mom and in me and in my brothers.  He hugged me with the last of his strength, refusing to let me go.  He mouthed “I love yous” without a sound, but I heard them loud and clear.  I remembered the comparison between my dad and my Heavenly Father many years ago – those ridiculous columns that I made - and a scripture came to me.  It says “And I am sure of this, that He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” (Philippians 1:6)  If I were to make those two columns again, there would be a lot more similarities than disparities.  My dad’s life proves the faithfulness of God to conform us to His own image in whatever way He sees fit.  Dad is finally perfect and is now, right this moment, looking in the face of the fulfillment of his deepest longing and his highest treasure: Jesus Christ.  I will be eternally grateful that D.C. Taff is my dad and that I can still feel his arms around me.  But I’m even more grateful that my dad is in the arms of my Heavenly Father, experiencing joy unspeakable and glory beyond comprehension.  My eternal hope is affirmed in his eternal hope being fulfilled.  Thank you, Daddy.  Both of you.
(In memory of my dad - D. C. Taff who went home to be with Jesus on September 5, 2011.)


Copyright 2011 Sharon Denise Dorminy