A Big Fish!

My Dad—The Brad Pitt, “River Runs Through It” of his Day!

Dad’s Big Fish

Today is my father’s 88th Birthday. Dad could be referred to as “a big fish” in the little fishbowl of life. He has always loved to fish. While my mother has always had deep faith and a connection to the preexsistence, giving her children spiritual roots, my father has always been connected to the beauty of God’s rich earth. He has given us laughter with his dry sense of humor. Together they have given us the strength to endure the hardships and sorrows of life that have come to our family in numerous ways.

As a child, Dad made toy rabbits from the red clay soil near the river by his Logan, Utah home. As an adult, he enjoyed the splendor of his earthly home through gardening, landscaping, cement mixing, carpentry, and raising multitudes of animals such as rabbits, chickens, horses and cows. Dad was a master sportsman in his younger years, enjoying hunting, fishing, snow skiing, and water skiing. In the early days of water skiing he mastered jumping off the dock on one ski and holding the ski rope in his toe and in his teeth! If there was a motto Dad has always subscribed to in this life it would probably be, “Work, Work, Work!” He has always worked hard and been an excellent provider. Work has been his play.

High priority on my dad’s list of talents has been his lifetime love of fishing. Fishing, and his great love for the sport, has soared foremost above all of his other passions and interests. He and his father and two brothers more than likely fished every fishing hole from Utah to Wyoming. His delightful tall tales of the biggest fish that got away and his other fish related adventures, will forever bring a smile to those of us who love him dearly.

Now in the declining years of their lives, my parents have new challenges and trials that must be faced. Yet, as we search for answers and wonder why, we are reminded of the legacy of strength we have been given to endure to the end. My father has always been a simple man, completely honest, hardworking, and faithful. He is one of God’s finest, a true and noble Son of God.

My mother always said she could write a book about my father’s tall tales and amusing anecdotes about life, but she could never really capture his true essence. Instead, following a life threatening illness of her own, she used her recuperation time to recreate and write down a few chapters of Dad’s life. Gratefully, she has given them to me to share with their posterity when the time comes.

I have tender feelings for my dad—truly a big fish in his daughter’s eyes. Because of my limited mobility and health challenges I am unable to physically visit him. However, from the comments of my children and other family members who have visited him, I am aware of my father’s present condition following a stroke—a limited concept of time and places, and a mental challenge, bordering somewhere between Alzheimers and dementia. But even though he cannot remember everything in his past and has difficulty communicating, I believe his spirit is fully aware of what is going on around him. I know his spirit responds to those who love him as they visit, with a spirit to spirit connection. His granddaughter, Ashley said, “His eyes light up when his family enters the room. Even though he is pleasant and kind to his caregivers, it is obvious he feels a spirit to spirit connection when his family is there.”

When my mother had her stroke—one she miraculously recovered from—she experienced conversations that could only be explained as spirit to spirit dialog. Although she was unable to talk and others were not talking directly to her, she remembers very specific conversations she had with others in the room—a “spirit to spirit” connection.

Last year on Father’s Day, my sister’s and I decided to send my dad an ipod, fully loaded with his favorite coyboy music, hoping to stimulate his mind and bring him joy. How much of the music he actually remembered is unclear, but he felt the love connection given through his spirit . . . of this I am certain. When he took the telephone to try and express his thanks, he was overcome with sweet emotion, unable to speak any words at all. He said my name, and then just cried. In that moment we had a spirit to spirit connection and words were unneccessary. I felt his love and I knew he felt a daughter’s love for him. Filling my father’s ipod with music, researching his era of old songs, was truly a gift to me—bringing my father back home to me. As a kid I didn’t care for the country twang of his old favorites, but when rediscovering them again, I relished in memories of days gone by, reliving the music he loved to sing on his guitar. I still smile thinking about it and keep his favorites on my own ipod. “There was blood on the saddle, and blood all around . . . And a great big puddle of blood on the ground!” (Tex Ritter)

I know there will be a missing piece in our hearts when Dad hangs up his final ‘Gone Fishin’ sign and returns to his Heavenly home and his Savior, fisher of men. Surely there is a great mansion prepared there for such a man of love and strength, where he can continue his great work among men, a new fish in a Heavenly sea.

A Fisherman's Prayer

I pray that I may live to fish, 
Until my dying day.

And when it comes to my last cast,

I then most humbly pray:

When in the Lord's great landing net,

And peacefully asleep,

That in His mercy I be judged,

Big enough to keep!

“Love you Dad. Happy Birthday!”