hand-reaching-bwThe summer prior to first learning of my dads cancer was a challenging one. For 30 days, I struggled with what we thought was a torn hamstring. But not committing to that, the doctor continued to order further ultrasound therapy on it along with specific stretches. After a month of extreme pain that kept me awake most nights along with a limited ability to move freely…they finally ordered an MRI.

The discovery was that I needed back surgery. My L5 disc had pretty much blown out and completely compressed the sciatic nerve.

But, I write this not to highlight my back surgery experience but to recall a special moment between my dad and I as they wheeled me from my temporary hospital room into the prep room just prior to my surgery.

Being nervous due to the fact I had never experienced surgery where I was fully under followed by a one night stay in the hospital…I remember the calming influence dad had on me. As they wheeled me away, my dad stood along that path and held out his hand for mine. Wheeling by, I took his hand and held it for a brief moment as he shot me a look that I will never forget. It was a look that said it was going to be ok.

You see, what is significant about that was that dad was never the touchy feely type and though you never heard him say I love you…you knew he did. It just was not a typical trait from his generation.

So, for him to initiate this contact meant the world to me and in this…he modeled that of Jesus when He reached out His hand and said…”Take courage…it is I.”

Of course, I made it through that surgery and he was there when I got out and was there that next morning to pick me up.

With dad…he saw me through and with our Heavenly Father…He will too.


My back surgery was on August 6th, 2001. Yet through all the pain and build up to such a time in my life, this one moment still remains one of the most impactful memories of my entire life. I miss my dad. But as I grow older, I find him in the many lessons he planted forth within me that I never knew until now.

This all reminds me and causes me to ponder, how often am I teaching when I don’t even know it? What moments will my daughter carry with her throughout life? Am I teaching right things yet reflecting the wrong things?