On Father’s Day I like to write notes to my dad and remind him of the warm memories of growing up that helped shape me into the person I am today. Most all of those memories are of the fun times we shared, but there are a few that were painful. Sometimes what hurts the most has the most relevance in our lives. One such moment occurred the year I turned ten. We moved to Oak Harbor, WA, the previous year and the lot next door stood vacant. A fun place to explore, with secret hiding places and tree roots to climb on. Suddenly a new house went in and we had neighbors. My brother and I – with the emphasis on I, because being older, I’m sure I was the instigator – threw rocks in their newly seeded lawn. I don’t really know why we did it, but I know it wasn’t because we disliked them. We didn’t even know them. I don’t remember how Dad found out we did that terrible deed. But I do remember he marched us next door to apologize and make amends. It was difficult to face our victims, but I learned a very big lesson that day. That there are real people who suffer from our thoughtless actions. I remember the hurt and concern on Dad’s face that day, not only for our neighbors, but for the children he loved. For the lives he hoped we would lead. That has stayed with me always. Our heavenly Father loves us like that, even when we stray. He stands beside us through the worst times. His love never fails.
