My Father

I did not understand him. I did not agree with him. And, I did not worship him.

The first time I really realized how unjust I was with him was when my Uncle Ed told me the story of his visit to Alabama. Dad had taken him and some of his friends to an Alabama football game in Tuscaloosa. At the time, I was in school there. My two roommates and I lived near the stadium in a house on 13th street. The house was split into three apartments and we lived in one of them. This was really a slum. In fact the apartment only had one bedroom that I used and my two roommates slept in the kitchen on bunk beds.

The house was so close to the stadium that we parked cars in the yard for money on the days of ballgames. My Uncle told me that when they parked their car in our yard on this game day that one of Dad's friends commented on how his boy looked like a girl with all that hair. Uncle Ed told me that Dad told him to "shut up, that's my son and I love him"

1973

When he told me this story, I began to realize how much I had mistreated my father; but in addition no matter what I did he still love me.

Over the years, I have grown to love that man more and more. He is gentle, smart, loving, concerned for his children; a great man. He is a self made man; a man of wealth, not only financially but of family. He just turned 76 and is still going strong in his work. We are now great friends. I do understand, agree with, and worship him.

Now that I am with God, I have a greater understanding when people talk about how God loves his children unconditionally. There can be no greater love.

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. John 3:16

Brad Warren