Dad, Friend to Anyone and Everyone

"C'mon, kids." Dad would say. "We're going to go visit some people." 

We would sigh, roll our eyes, and load up in our van. We knew what we were in for: a day full of sitting in other people's houses, listening to adults talk, while we kids sat and tried to be polite, (or not). We'd go from house to house this way, sometimes all day, not really playing, but just sitting. (This was unless Mom intervened, and for one summer, she couldn't, because she was at the hospital, working to renew her nursing license). I didn't understand the significance of those visits then, but now I do. My dad literally had enough friends to visit them for hours on end, without running out of things to talk about, or more people to see.

My dad has always been that way: a friend to anyone and everyone. My mom talks often about how my dad would pick people up to give them rides when he worked second or night-shift in downtown Charlotte, North Carolina. That was not the safest part of town, but Dad had a heart to help people, and help people, he did.

Mom also talks about Dad's coworkers, people who would not step into our home, but would join my dad at the pond or the lake for fishing. While those people did not feel at ease in our home, they felt comfortable with Dad, because Dad was a friend to anyone and everyone.

Dad made lots of friends when he ran his bulk water delivery business. He even made some four-legged ones and carried treats for them inside the cab of his semi. After he sold his business, he went to work for some of his well-drilling friends. I am sure he would have found a job with other friends, if not those ones.

Friends came out of the woodwork from anywhere and everywhere when Dad had open heart surgery three years ago. Those people supported him and my mom in all sorts of ways. Dad had loved them through some dark times, and they loved them through his.

Go for a walk with Dad through his new neighborhood, and you'll find him receiving coffee from one man, petting the next neighbor's horses, and saying hello to the neighborhood donkey. Dad made friends with one neighbor and helped him with a mechanic project. Dad gets eggs from another neighbor for whom he did some side jobs. Dad has already joined the local tractor club (and he got into tractors because of one of the Arizona friends he made). Occasionally, Dad gets the outdoor cat to come around. 

When we visited last summer, my husband got the, "We're going to visit some people" tour. (Thankfully, my husband was mature enough not to sigh, and to rather go along and enjoy the experience.) Dad went around the neighborhood, seeing whose garage doors were open so that he could say, "Hi," introduce his son-in-law and chit-chat.

Dad's ability to make friends probably comes from his mother, of whom it was said could "evangelize a brick wall" because she was kind and friendly. Dad carries on that legacy. More than that, Dad carries around the message of Jesus (Matthew 11:19, Luke 7:34), who was a friend to all kinds of people: rich and poor; sinner and saved. Dad doesn't care about status or stature. He cares about people. He knows who he is in Jesus, and he's not afraid to be that person with everyone.

I can see now why Dad loved those visiting days we had as a kid. He is an extrovert and gets his energy from people. As an introvert, I am not the same, but I can now appreciate my dad for who he is, and those visiting days for what they were. Dad possesses the ability to be friends with anyone and everyone, and that is admirable, and to be praised.

Thanks, Dad, for being a living legacy. I love you. Happy Father's Day!