Today is Father's Day. Please allow me to share a personal story about how I became a writer. This blog message is in honor of my dad--may his soul rest in peace...
My writing ability showed up in a peculiar way on Father's Day when I was about ten-years old. I scoured our back yard for cigarette butts and glued them to the front of a home-made card for my dad. When dad opened the card, it read:
Happy Father's Day. I don't want you to die. Please quit smoking.
Love,
Mike
My dad didn't speak much that day. He didn't light up any cigarettes either. For three days, he suffered incredibly from the withdrawals before returning to his addiction. While he served in Korea as a marine he was offered free cigarettes and became a chain smoker.
Our parents divorced and dad moved away. After a long separation, dad came home to spend his final thirty-five days with his children. His lung cancer spread all over his body and his life ended prematurely.
Dad left me with a writing gene. I kept it hidden for many years after writing that home-made Father's Day card. Maybe I was trying to be different from him. Every morning when the birds starting their melodies at sunrise I realize I'm not. I'm called to be a writer. It's lonely at times. And today I'm remembering my dad. I know I'm not alone. I'm blessed with an amazing wife and three children. And I will always remember my dad who inspired me to live every day to it's fullest. One of his favorite expressions when we barbecued in the back yard was, "let's survey the kingdom."
I picture my dad standing next to Jesus saying, "let's survey the Kingdom." I wish I could paint a picture of what I see in my head. Happy Father's day, dad. And happy Father's Day to all the dads. God bless our fathers.
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