The Living Years

       In 1989,  a British soft rock group,  Mike and the Mechanics,  released a memorable, soul-deep song entitled The Living Years.   As I gather my thoughts for what will be the sixteenth Father's Day since my Dad went to be with the Lord,  the lyrics of The Living Years sting a little bit.   They sting a bit like my hand did when trying to catch one of my Dad's pitches,  after forgetting to put a sponge inside a worn-thin catcher's mitt.  How often have I wished that just one more time,  I could crouch and look at the grin on his face as he tested me with his hardest fastball.

             Although not all of the lyrics will, of course, be true for you or me, some may strike home.  Before you read them, and watch the video, you may want to put a sponge in the mitt of your heart:

Every generation

Blames the one before

And all of their frustrations

Come beating on your door

I know that I'm a prisoner

To all my father held so dear

I know that I'm a hostage

To all his hopes and fears

I just wish I could have told him in the living years

Crumpled bits of paper

Filled with imperfect thought

Stilted conversations

I'm afraid that's all we've got

You say you just don't see it

He says it's perfect sense

You just can't get agreement in this present tense

We all talk a different language, talking in defense

Say it loud, say it clear

You can listen as well as you hear

It's too late when we die

To admit we don't see eye to eye

So we open up a quarrel

Between the present and the past

We only sacrifice the future

It's the bitterness that lasts

So don't yield to the fortunes

You sometimes see as fate

It may have a new perspective on a different day

And if you don't give up, and don't give in, you may just be okay

Say it loud, say it clear

You can listen as well as you hear

It's too late when we die

To admit we don't see eye to eye

I wasn't there that morning

When my Father passed away

I didn't get to tell him

All the things I had to say

I think I caught his spirit

Later that same year

I'm sure I heard his echo

In my baby's new born tears

I just wish I could have told him in the living years

Say it loud, say it clear

You can listen as well as you hear

It's too late when we die

To admit we don't see eye to eye

    

Thinking this weekend of all the sons who miss their Fathers.

      I feel blessed not to have the regrets that this man in the song has.  Regrets maybe, of not letting his father know how much he loved him, while there was still time.  Daddy knew I loved him and respected him more than any man on this earth.   Oh sure, there's not a day passes that I don't feel the sting of wishing I could share with him about his grandkids and great-grandkids,  talk about the Buckeyes,  or  ask him how he handled retirement so well.   But on the day that  his spirit slipped bravely out of a body taken over by Lou Gehrig's disease,  we all knew that he was safe because he had trusted in the blood of Christ.  

     Once in awhile I get what I'll call visions.  They're not really visions, in the strictest sense, but they're more like movie scenes that I compose in my head.  One particular "vision" I had sometime in the early months after Daddy passed away.  As I'm entering Heaven, there are two long lines of people I knew during my life.  They are facing each other and applauding, as I pass between them.   Quickly, one face stands out more than others.  That's because he's taken a step out into the open space between the lines and leaned way over to make sure I can see him.....and he's applauding in both love and pride.  But the thing that really chokes me up is the grin on his face..... that same grin he'd show just before he 

unleashed that fastball toward me in the back yard.

        If your Dad is still living and you can honor him this Sunday, renew your appreciation of 

the living years.  The Apostle Paul, in his Ephesian letter, 5:15-16, says:

         Be very careful, then, how you live--not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil.

Thinking this weekend of all the daughters who miss their Dads.

We miss you , Gene !

       

            

       

         

I'm out of the picture.....waiting and praying with a glove on.  We miss you, Daddy.