It’s hard to know what to write, but since many reading this blog knew my Dad, I thought it was appropriate to write a little something in his memory.
Today I spent a lot of time trying to remember … trying to remember events, discussions, hikes, birthdays, vacations and other things... some coming back easier than others. I wondered what story to share today. Maybe the time that my Dad dared me to go bungee jumping (I said “obviously I’ll do it”, thinking there was no way he’s actually let a 14 year-old bungee jump… I was wrong); maybe the times we’d play baseball, or the many early mornings when he’d take Dave and I to hockey and lace up our skates.
Instead, I’ll share one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.
For many years, our family owned a Honda Accord, it was an old silver model – a stick shift – and from what I recall, a pretty decent car. It was getting older – it was well used around town for hockey games, piano lessons and trips to the church – but it was still in fairly good shape.
One sunny day, we brought the car over to the church where a car wash was being held in the parking lot. Dad parked the car in the designated area and headed for his office – no doubt putting the finishing touches on what was to be a great sermon the following day… or perhaps relaxing with a double-double from Tim Horton’s – I can’t be quite sure – I was out in the parking lot, no doubt being a goofy 14-year-old.
Our Honda, freshly washed and buffed with care by the church youth group, needed to be moved from it’s designated area to make room for the next luxury car. Someone made a comment about going into the church to find Pastor Ted; I decided that wasn’t necessary; I could move the car – I mean, sure, I had never actually driven the car, but I had seen it done many times, and surely I was capable of moving it 20 feet or so to the back of the lot. So I did.
Although I had seen my parents drive that car countless times, I was not a proficient driver. I let out the clutch too fast and didn’t turn the wheel fast enough.
But, I parked the car… right into the side of Larry’s car. I was devastated. A small crowd gathered, someone else got into the car, reversed and parked it correctly (must have been someone with a license…). I, on the other hand, did what any teenager who messed up would do… I walked quickly into my Dad’s office, mumbled something about wrecking the car and how he’d probably better check it out, and I took off.
I’m not sure exactly where I was going; I just started walking. I suppose I would have ended up at home eventually… hoping that the hurricane that would be my parents would have then subsided (my Dad was a Pastor, but surely this would evoke some anger!).
I didn’t get much further than the corner before my Dad had caught up to me. Still devastated, he wrapped his arms around me. We sat for a few minutes and talked – he was surprisingly calm for a guy whose car had just been crashed. Before he even looked at the damage, he helped fix the damage in me. Forgiveness was immediate; that’s just the kind of Dad he was. The damage to Larry’s car was nil, and for that I was grateful, the damage to ours – slightly more, but nothing too major. The damage to my pride: enormous (and I’m still teased about it from time to time… thanks Dave).
Aside from publicly embarrassing myself, my point is that my Dad, much like our heavenly Father, was a forgiving Dad; a Dad who was gentle, kind and loving, and I appreciated that about him – that single event taught me a lot about love and forgiveness. I’m not sure he realized it at the time and I’m sure he was worried about his car and how much damage was done, but his priority was his son.
About 5 years later Dad got sick. He had numerous procedures to be done, and I had the honor of shaving his head. If you knew my Dad, you knew his hair, always done the same way. It was a great feeling to take Fred’s job for a day (Fred was Dad’s go-to guy when it came to haircuts). I had no idea that there wouldn’t be too many more pictures to take together.
One of the last verses my Dad gave me was Psalms 16:8, it’s now tattooed on my left shoulder – “I have set the Lord always before me. Because he is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.”
On his grave, a few verses later – “You have made known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.” (vs.11).
Today, although I still mourn, I rejoice that my Dad is now with Jesus. He is experiencing all that joy – he is filled with it – just as the psalmist says. This gives me great comfort and hope.
Dad took that step of faith and trusted Jesus with his life, and his after-life. With that thought in mind I quote the words from our friend David Taylor who delivered a speech at the memorial service. “Because Ted took this step, I do not have to say ‘Good-bye’ to my friend, instead I can simply say, ‘Until we meet again.’”
Although I write with tears tonight, I look forward to that day when there will be no tears.
My father and my friend… until we meet again.
In memory of Allan Edward (Ted) Stimers. December 24, 1953 – November 10, 2001.
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