Fathers, Days, Sons and Daughters

Today is Father's Day. I had a dream the other night about my father. Don't remember the details, as it is the case with many of my dreams, but I do remember the feeling. It was a comfortable, good feeling. I think there is something I need to do. Now, that last statement is not quite true. I know there are some things I need to do relating to my father. We have his personal work done, but he has not been sealed to his parents, his wife, or his kids yet. Those who knew my dad might question if doing this vicarious work would amount to anything. As I age, I am becoming more aware of not trying to judge other's hearts. I have neither the scale nor the feather. I am deeply grateful that the Judge of our hearts is He to whom our hearts belong. I don't know why I am often quick to form assessments of other's heart tones, when I am still working on my own well into my second half-century. How can I know others' hearts-even those closest to me in life-when I am still figuring out how to change my own? And I am more and more relying on an infinite measure of mercy and grace to qualify me for the "well done...". Anyway, I need to push on getting Dad's work done--at least the portion I can do here.
We went up to Logan for the night Friday. Samuel Tanner made his appearance. I love all of the grandkids, but, honestly, it seems like they get more fun as they get older (yeah--wait for those teen years..), so I hope and pray for health and good things for the new moms and the new babes, but I have a bit of "this is nice, but it will be better when they learn tricks and can at least be mobile" thoughts. Until. Until I hold that little squirming soul in my hands and marvel at the miracle of it all. Every reflex, yawn, stretch, look and expression still amazes me. And it did with each of my own kids as well as with the grandkids.
My first experience with this was when Ricky came to us. As a father, I had unimaginable feelings of love, astonishment at the miracle, and panic that I was now responsible for the well-being of another of God's children! Thank God that He sends help along the way. I thought I was getting the daddy-thing down when the next one came, and it was Emily- a girl! Again, the overwhelming feelings, added to by the thought "what am I ever going to do with a girl?" Then we had several more! Girls, I mean. Megan, then Lindsy, then Nat! And unique blessings each.
OK-the Fathers Day part. Of all the things I have done in life, short of finding my sweet (at times bike-ballistic) wife, being a father is the most wondrous, wonderful, fulfilling, blessed experience I can imagine. In my quiet times, when I think about my son and daughters, I tear up from the Spirit letting me know that this father-hood thing is eternally important, and a great blessing. Don't I know it! And then I reflect on the fact that each of these "children" have probably been friends of mine for eons, and that their spirits are at least as mature and experienced as mine. I do feel as blessed and overwhelmed as that thought implies. Then, I think of my own parents and realize that the same eternal relationship exists with them. I knew and loved them and looked forward to life here with them. I have been blessed to know of the hope for eternal family blessings, and I can, because of the Savior's love for His children, help bring those blessings to fathers and mothers gone before.
Guess I need to get a bit busier with the work.
To my kids--thanks for the happy fathers days-not just once a year, but daily- I have had for 30+ years, and continue to have.

Ballistic Grandma=Balanced World?

So, we were riding on a pleasant June afternoon--mom commuting to work. No fossil fuel being burned--unless the Krebs cycle in 55 year-olds counts, sunny afternoon, bit of a tail wind, light traffic, life was good. Then, "RICK, WATCH OUT!!!" followed by a large white Toyota SUV making a right turn on my front wheel. I did not see the car until I looked up at hearing Vick's yelling at me, and it was RIGHT THERE. Turning right in front of me. Blocking my chosen path of travel. Well, my adrenaline shot up, I grabbed everything that even looked like brake levers, swerved, skidded, and thought "I've been on the pavement before, and it was not a good experience--a life-changing experience, but not all that fun--don't want to do that again." I did not hit the car--don't know how I missed it--must be watched over. Well, I do the sit up and yell, call on the SUV--always a good idea, and to my surprise, it pulls over. And, to my greater surprise, my little sweet grandma wife sprints--I can't catch her--to the SUV. A young lady gets out, she and Vick are discussing the situation-in loud voice-as I ride up. I hear the youngster say something about "yes, I did see you, but there was plenty of room". Maybe she intended for us to reach out, open the back door, and ride into the large vehicle, because there was NOT plenty of road room. Then I see my sweet, quiet wifey almost ride her Eddy into the front seat, grab the youngster by the sweatshirt and look like she is going to throttle her! Go Vick! I had to call her off, just to avoid a lawsuit, since the only lawyer in the family does something called "patent law". That is the shiny black law, I think. He does not practice pummeling law at all. So, I figure Vick saved my life from the young twit by timely yelling, and I saved the young twit's skin by calling my wife off. Maybe I shouldn't have. Perhaps the throttling of a young twit ignorant SUV driver by a sweet grandma would help restore some balance and sanity to a world quickly becoming less sane and balanced. At least it would have been amusing to watch. Next time I am just standing back. Maybe charge a small admission fee to passers-by.