Role Model

 

Today is my father's 84th birthday, so last weekend when I was on the farm I baked a banana cream pie. Until this year, Mom had made his favorite dessert every Dec. 10 for the 57 years they were married.

I am no expert in making banana cream pies--the number I've made can be counted on the fingers of one, well, finger. But I wanted Dad to know that I loved him, and knew how deeply he missed his wife, so I forged ahead. I scalded milk and tempered egg yolks and whipped the whites for meringue and sliced overripe bananas.

The results were truly horrendous. The scalding milk stuck to the bottom of the saucepan so the finished custard was simultaneously lumpy and runny. The crust shrank and the meringue was slopped clear out onto the edge of the pan.

Still, when we cut the pie and Dad dug into his first bite, you would have thought it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. 

"Ahh, delicious!" he sighed.

I've long thought that most of us base our first impressions of the character of God on the character of our own parents. My heart goes out to those whose fathers were absent or abusive or immoral. I have experienced God as loving, just, sacrificial, and One who thinks I'm special beyond words.

I am blessed.

Happy birthday, Dad.