Happy Is The One Who Inherits A Godly Legacy

Summer of 2019

Fall of 2020

 How many 67 year old women can call their 93 year old father anytime and hear his voice, full of joy and contentment, tell about his day and, then, hear his "I love you", as goodbyes are said? I am privileged to be one of them! We can't choose how our bodies and minds will grow old, but my dad exhibits how to keep a positive attitude in the process of aging. He has been blessed with good health and a sound mind, which he repeatedly gives God thanks for. So I write this tribute to him and his nonagenarian life.

In spite of a world wide pandemic that targeted his age group with its deadliness, Dad weathered the restrictions and isolation without complaining. While many in his retirement facility who needed healthcare services were locked away in their rooms from any outside contact, Dad could not invite anyone into his residence, but he did have the freedom to go out for groceries, appointments and necessities- in his own car, which he still drives himself. 

There is never a phone conversation with him where he doen't at some point say how grateful he is for good health and that he has a good place to live. He often speaks of his love for Jesus and his longing for all of his family to walk in that same salvation. During the beginning of sheltering, I know he missed the activity and communication with the other residents. But, he kept himself occupied with reading, napping, computering and the calls from family and friends. He found comfort in looking through family pictures, making contact with relatives who he had not heard from recently, or had never contacted before. He was rewarded with several interesting family stories and connections. Every received correspondence gets pinned to his office wall, an array of love messages, like well earned degrees and certificates, touting his lifetime achievements in relationships.

He takes care of his needs. As chewing food became more difficult, he explained his process of breaking down meat chunks in his little grinder. Dad enjoys getting carry outs from his favorite restaurants, stretching the food into portions he can save in the freezer for future meals. Today when we talked, I could hear the dryer tumbling his small load of wash.

Dad is a carpenter and fix-it man. It was a sad day when two of his joys were taken away because of the virus. He could no longer go to the woodshop on campus, and he could not longer volunteer at the non-profit Mennonite thrift store he had served at every day for the last 23 years. Although he had to put down hammer and saw for awhile, he continued to collect bags to fold for the clerks at the thrift store. 

It's common now to call and find him not at home. He's back to creating tables, foot stools and toaster tongs. Recently he told me of a new feature he's invented on his table design. Research and development was one of his career paths; his creativity hasn't stopped. He finds camaraderie with the other woodworking artists in the shop.

Evening chats will find him at home reading or folding bags. Even though he still can't volunteer in the store, he enjoys the brief contact with familiar faces when he drops the folded bags off. 

With less foot travel in the hallways where he lives, I haven't heard much recently about his walker repair service. Known on campus as the walker fix-it man, seniors bring him apparatuses that need new wheels, or other adjustments. He orders the new replacements on line and soon has the walker back to its owner. He even bought an extra walker to loan out to "customers" while repairs are being made. This business, as with the furniture he sells, takes in no money, but he only asks the buyer to donate a suggested amount to his non-profit.

If I live as long as my Dad, I pray to have his good health and sound mind. I want to find ways to keep giving to others. I understand how important hobbies are for end of life fulfillment. Above all, though, I want to maintain a grateful heart and cheery spirit. I believe that starts now, for all of us, so that the practice serves us well no matter what is ahead. 

Thank you, Dad, for this legacy. I know you'll read this soon. You're my biggest blog fan, and I appreciate your compliments and support. For all the times I've given you grief in my growing up years, I say thank you for loving me through it all and for modeling a life of faith. Now be careful in that workshop, and keep alert driving around! 

I love you!