The Blessing of Good Men

Sometimes it feels like Mother’s Day gets all the fanfare, and by the time Father’s Day arrives, the celebration has fizzled. Or maybe that’s just me, since my birthday usually lands right on top of it. Either way, this year I want to pause and honor the men who have shaped my life in ways both quiet and profound.

I never knew my great-grandfather on my dad’s side, but his influence reached me all the same. My dad taught me how to handle money from the time I was little. He was generous and always gave me plenty when I wanted to go out with my friends, but he handed it over with the same gentle reminder every time. “You don’t need to spend it all.” He told me his dad had said it to him, and now he was passing it down to me.

I took those words seriously. Dad trusted me with his money, and I was determined to bring some back.

It wasn’t until years later, sitting on my grandpa’s sofa that I learned the real origin of that phrase. “Dawdy,” I said as I settled in and made myself comfortable. “Dad always reminded me to take care of my money. When he handed me cash for the weekend, he always said the same thing, ‘You don’t have to spend it all.’ He said you used to tell him the same thing.”

Dawdy chuckled. He knew exactly what I was talking about. “Oh, those words weren’t mine. They came from my father-in-law, Mose Coblentz. His dad had some financial problems, so Mose was always extra careful with his money. When his son Roy was young, he’d give him a quarter for the weekend and tell him the same thing. ‘You don’t need to spend it all.’”

My jaw dropped. “A quarter?”

“Oh yes. That was back in the 1940s and things didn’t cost as much as they do now. Mt Hope was a popular youth hangout, and you could get a burger for ten cents.”

Ah. Suddenly it all made sense. It was a simple sentence, but it had been passed down through generations, all the way to me. I was glad I had asked, and I knew I would pass them down to my children.

But Dad taught me far more than money. He taught me family. Everything we did, we did together, worshipping, gardening, vacations, supper around the table, working with horses. He shaped his life around us, and in doing so, shaped ours.

He also taught me respect. Respect for him and Mom, for teachers and bosses, for our elders and our ministry. He didn’t just demand it; he lived it. When we complained about our teacher, he told us to go to school and make sure we were respectful. “When an elder asks you to do something, you do it.” The phrase “You are not my boss” was strictly forbidden.

Pete Dawdy was a farmer through and through. He often went to the weekly livestock sales in Mt. Hope, and he always had room for a gaggle of grandchildren. He’d pull into the lane with Scotty and the hack, call out an invitation, and we’d scramble aboard. The best part was always the ride home. Dawdy held onto his hat, and Scotty took off at a fast clip, two, four, or six of us hanging on and giggling as we sailed down the long hill. I think Dawdy loved it as much as we did, because usually he was laughing with us, urging Scotty to go even faster. Dawdy always had time for us. We were never in his way.

On the other side of my family was my Grandpa Knowles. He married my grandma when I was six, and what a treasure he became. He joined the Amish church to marry her, giving up everything from his former life. He taught me to cherish our community and our church. Whenever he heard of someone leaving the fold, he’d shake his head gently. “There is absolutely nothing out there that you want. You have it all. Right here.”

Grandpa K. not only doubled my love for flowers, he taught me what they mean, all practicality aside. Bouquets will fade, petals will fall, but the impact they make on the receiver can last a lifetime. I always enjoyed gardening, but he took it to another level. He raised vegetables for the family and gladiolus for the community. When he arrived with a bouquet, it wasn’t just flowers he was bringing. It was love, grown and gathered by his hands. And it always made our whole day.

And then there is my husband, Steve, whom I married nearly twenty-one years ago. When we started dating in 2002, I quickly realized he was going to be my champion. I had teenage acne and a mountain of insecurity, but he loved me for who I was.

He still does. He gives me wings to pursue my dreams and steadies me when life gets messy. “We are going to be okay; we’ll stick together as a family.” He leads our home with prayer and devotion to the Lord, and he works hard to provide for us. I am honored to walk beside him and raise our children together.

The quality of a father can be seen in the goals, dreams, and aspirations he sets not only for himself but for his family.

So, as Father’s Day comes around again, let’s truly celebrate the men who have shaped our lives. We have but a moment, in a brief span of time. Let’s show them that we love, appreciate, and respect them. Let’s honor them by saying the words that matter most.