My dad was my hero.
He was an accountant–I don’t really “get” accountants. In his early years, he had a short temper–few things make me madder. He wasn’t romantic at all and seldom treated my mom like the treasure she is–such a treasure. He messed up. Still, besides my husband, there is no man I admire more.
He was humble. He cried at every thought of Jesus. He knew He had been redeemed at a great cost. I prayed I would “get it” like he did. I was young, zealous, eager and had no idea what I was praying for.
Sitting beside daddy at church when we sang the great old hymn, I Surrender All, he cried. Every time. I sang it with pride, because I knew I would surrender all for Jesus. (Of course at 12, I had a diary and a dog, so the cost was not crippling). Daddy had family. Daddy was Abraham. He had great loves and when he sang “I Surrender All,” he knew he couldn’t, not on his own, ever, surrender it all, or even part of it.
I want to take my prayer back. It’s too late. My eternal father has heard it and even if never uttered, He knows He has put it in my heart. I didn’t know it would cost my reputation, security, comfort, happiness (instead of joy). I didn’t know. I prayed to “get the gospel like my Daddy.”
I think I finally am. I wish he was here so I could tell him. But, I think he knows. I think He and Jesus smile and laugh at my lessons and my future.
Be careful what you pray for….you might just get it.