On this day, a year ago, my dad had a massive cardiac arrest which proved to be fatal. I think fondly of him every day. Today, however, I'd like to remember him with some words, my words...because words matter. |
When I close my eyes, I can still hear his words cackle with laughter and a heartiness of life. Through his words we were lifted up because what he would say and how he would say it had a glow of yellow optimism and positivism. I rarely heard my dad remark with negativity or belittle anyone in the slightest. Yes, I remember the authoritative tone which would accompany deserved admonitions, however, I can also hear dad's words of encouragement when I was up against a situation or a contest: "Just go in there, Janice, get in there and do it!" Dad's words came from a place of gentleness, generosity, and goodness.
Words have a sacred essence. They should be respected. Words have meaning, words matter. When dad was working and writing his sermons he did his due and careful diligence in making each word work---each had a power to bring forth the message he wanted to convey. He'd have words crossed out, and others he'd replace with something else...all conveying his thoughts. We think in words, we formulate thought by the use of language...and what we have abiding in our hearts and what we have occupying our minds will prompt the words coming out of our mouths.
I appreciate my dad on so many levels, he taught me many things. He showed me that it just wasn't important to 'walk the talk' but even more intensively true; don't 'talk (words) if it isn't backed by the walk.' He was a walking active verb...his words were used for the building up. His speech was instructive to us kids, his sermons were filled with words of invitation, and his life was my inspiration because he actively lived a life of love through word and deed.
Thank you, dad. I will hold deep and close your words...your tender and powerful words that mattered then, and that matter to me now...this day--as I remember.