Tag Archives: dad



Merry blue eyes and laughter

Ever loving and caring father

Moments of quiet conversations

Of his life experiences and wisdom.

Retelling lighthearted stories of his youth

In fond remembrance of what he used to do.

Eager with friends and family to celebrate

Sharing his smile and love during the holidays.

Overworked in the fields and at the mine:

Filled with family duty to provide.

Days camping near a Hatfiield lake;

And fishing at a favorite place.

Determined to live and remain strong;

No longer on earth but alive in heaven.





Me and My Dad

Merry blue eyes and laughter

Ever loving and caring father

Moments of quiet conversations

Of his life experiences and wisdom.

Retelling lighthearted stories of his youth

In fond remembrance of what he used to do.

Eager with friends and family to celebrate

Sharing his smile and love during the holidays.

Overworked in the fields and at the mine:

Filled with family duty to provide.

Days camping near a Hatfiield lake;

And fishing at a favorite place.

Determined to live and remain strong;

No longer on earth but alive in heaven.

I Never Want to Forget


I never want to forget my mittens, scarf, and hat.

I never want to forget to feed m y two cats.

I never want to forget my clothes at the laundromat.

And I never want to forget why I am here or where I’m at.

I never want to forget my purse and my car keys.

I never want to forget my bags of groceries.

I never want to forget which day it is of the week.

And I never want to forget my dearest friends and family.

I never want to forget my mom’s soft voice and her smiling face.

I never want to forget my dad’s laughter and warm embrace.

I never want to forget that Jesus is leading me from place to place

And I never want to forget God’s sweet and saving grace.

I never want to forget my Wisconsin childhood home.

I never want to forget the many blessings God has shown.

I never want to forget that although I journey

Through this earthly life so often alone,

Someone in heaven is watching who loves me

And calls me his own.

Oh yes, I never want to forget.

Missing My Dad


No more long Sunday drives

Through the quiet countryside.

No more seeing his smiling face

When I find him in his favorite place.

No more watching Mr.Green

Or some other PBS comedy

And hear him laugh aloud

With his laughter filling the house.

No more hearing sometimes stern and sometimes gentle voice;

It is silent now like a deep, empty void.

No more seeing him hunched over in the garage

Determined to fix the truck, tractor, or car.

No more watching him in the fields

Planting, harvesting, or tilling.

No more playing with him outside

Teaching me to play ball, oh how he tried.

Dad could coach me to hit here and there

But I was not meant to be a softball player.

No more fishing at the little pond

Where once I caught a trout with my own rod.

Dad said my fish was too small

So he unhooked it and gently let it go.

No more summer celebrations or holidays

To see him so joyful and to wish him Happy Birthday.

No more waiting in the dark and the late night

To see his car arrive by the beam of his headlights.

For many nights I had laid in bed wide awake

Until I knew dad was home from work and was safe.

Also no more seeing him suffer in great pain

As illness riddled his once strong and tall frame.

For he lived with increased pain for years;

Some days were good but others full of hurt and fear.

But now I know he lives in another world far above

Inside of God’s great grace and amazing love.

He is alive and well in the lofty realms of heaven

Living forever in God’s everlasting kingdom.

Thinking about my Dad on his Birthday


Me and My Dad

Today, June 4th, is my dad’s birthday; he was born in 1942 and passed away when he was just 58 years old.  It is hard to believe that he has been gone from our lives now for 15 years. My dad had this quiet personality but with a very hearty laugh. When something struck his funny bone, he would roar in joyous laughter that echoed through the house. He worked for many years in an iron mine and later for another 10 years in a tire factory. Additionally, he farmed and sometimes was self-employed as an electrician. He did everything he could think of to pay the bills and make ends meet. I am convinced that his very best friend in life was his older brother John who was born in 1941 and also passed on in 2010. Even though they lived far apart in their adult years, they shared a special closeness.

My dad also possessed a sense of adventure and wonderment. In 1969 when man first stepped on the moon, my dad watched enthralled. He held me on his lap and pointed to the TV, “See, Becky, they’re walking on the moon.” When I was still very little, he liked to swim and let me ride on his stomach while he laid on his back floating. Years later, he showed his sense of adventure by taking us on a family trip out west. We traveled as far as Utah and visited family there. Other highlights of that trip included seeing Mt. Rushmore and camping at Yellowstone National Park. We spent many summer weekends camping in Hatfield.

As a father, he was stern when he thought he needed to be but also very loving when someone most needed it. At least that was how he was to me. And his gift of joyous laughter with twinkling eyes will always stay with me. He could regale in humorous animation a lively story of his childhood. His Christmas Skis story comes to mind. He also loved watching a comedy or a movie that could really bring out that laughter. But other times he would watch a movie and give it more serious thought. We once had a conversation about the old Christmas movie, It’s a Wonderful Life. Through the course of the movie, the main character, George Bailey (played by Jimmy Stewart) is very unhappy and in a dire predicament although through no fault of his doing. The situation seems hopeless to George and he doesn’t want to continue in his life. Near the end of the movie, George is happily running down the street. His dire situation had not yet changed. My dad puzzled over this saying, “His situation had not changed and yet suddenly he was happy.”

“No,” I slowly commented in my own quiet way, “His situation hadn’t changed; just his perspective.”

“Yeah,” my dad’s face lit up now satisfied, “His perspective changed and THAT was the point of the movie.”

My dad’s laughter and his quiet moments of wonder and thoughtfulness are gifts that I will always treasure in my heart.


Writing 101 Day 9: Points of View



While continuing in this writing course, I was directed to write about a scene of an older woman making a gift. Perhaps it would have the last gift she would make for someone she loves. We were then to write it from different points of view. However, that scene got me to thinking about the last gift my mom made for me. Therefore, I felt compelled to write about that last gift which I cherish still today:

The Last Gift

I sat here thinking of the last gift my mother gave to me.

It was a monthly calendar with photos of our family.

With great love and joy she delivered the same package

To all her children and to the grandkids.

I sat to look at this last gift that my mother made for me

And turned the pages to gaze at love and familiarity.

Several pictures were of my nephews who once were boys but now men;

They each follow a different path in life. May God in his love forever bless them.

One nephew is pictured as a confident and skillful hunter

Who works hard at all he does, helping others, and being a farmer.

And there’s a smiling photo of my niece featured in the month of her birthday;

My how, she is growing up so fast and becoming a talented and beautiful lady.

My smiling youngest sister is pictured on the February page

Who is very social and witty with the look of laughter on her face.

My other sister is featured in December holding her infant, bright-eyed daughter.

What joy that young girl has brought to our lives with her gentle smile and laughter.

Then there is my brother pictured in May; a modest person who works hard to do

With his gentle smile and his ways what is right and remain ever true.

My sister and brother-in-laws are pictured in different places.

Each one is unique and gifted with different talents and gentle grace.

Featured in September is a picture of me,

Smiling and happy to be seated near my niece.

But my favorite photo is the one of my mother and father

The last one taken of them by my nephew who had joined in their laughter.

That calendar today remains turned to the picture of my mom and dad on my wall

Where they quietly keep watch as I remember the love they shared to us all.

The Fireplace

Now that it is Father’s Day, and I am once again thinking about my dad. He once built a fireplace which added extra warmth  in the old house during the many cold Wisconsin winters. And stretching on the couch, feeling it’s warming glow, and watching the dancing flames was one of my favorite things to do on a cold winter evening. I’m still going through my photos to find a pic of it and when I find it, I will post that too.

The Fireplace

There once was a fireplace built by my father’s skillful hands
And not another was like it; not one in all the land.
It filled an entire wall, an awesome sight to be behold;
Made of gray and white bricks and many large stones.

The sight with all its warmth invited and having nowhere else to go,
I’d gladly sit and watch the flames emitting that brilliant orange glow.
I’d hear the crackles, watch sparks fly and see the flames stretching high.
Only to shrink again, to almost smolder but never really die.

The crimson flames would rise again trying to reach higher than before.
The swaying fingers had a life of their own as they shrank and rose some more.
As a young girl I felt warm and safe there and deeply loved
As if someone was kindly watching over me from above.

Often at night I’d stretch out reading a favorite book and soon fall asleep.
I wonder how often mom or dad tiptoed by that fireplace quietly checking on me?
That old house stands empty and the fireplace but a dark shadow of its previous days.
I hope another young girl will one day watch and rest in its warm and brilliant sway.

When Dad Said No


Me and My Dad

A Special Tribute to my Dad on his birthday (June 4th):

My father has been on my mind. His birthday is here and soon it will be Father’s Day. He was born in 1942 and passed away at just 58 years old in 2000; his quiet voice has been silent and missing from my life for almost 14 years now. Of my two parents, my dad could be sterner and be more likely to say no when he felt that was best. Dad was also very loving and could erupt into a very hearty and jovial laugh; a laugh so contagious that others around broke into laughter with him. I also miss the sound of his infectious, bubbling laugh.

When I was an infant, Dad said I was so small that I could fit inside of his shoe box. He also said I could fit perfectly on a sofa pillow. I was born prematurely, was very small, difficult to feed, and had a serious visual impairment. I didn’t realize for years, how much this visual impairment greatly bothered my dad. I was born with a cataract in my left eye and was therefore blind in that eye. Mom and Dad took me to various doctors, including specialists at the faraway Marshfield Clinic. Doctors decided to not remove the cataract.

Just as I was beginning school, I also was found to be near-sighted in my right eye and needed glasses. I received my first pair of glasses when I was in kindergarten; I was the first kid in my class to wear glasses and I knew right away that made me different. My kindergarten picture shows the sadness I felt about this; no hint of a smile. I was also quite shy and received plenty of teasing over the years. I was told in no uncertain terms that I was not pretty. I felt certain that my glasses were the cause of this.

As a teenager, I began seeing commercials about contact lens and deep inside my mind, a wonderful idea was born. Oh, contact lens, that a great solution because that means no more glasses! I began asking my parents if I could get contact lens. They said no immediately. My dad was especially stern on this matter and when Dad says no, he means no. But I was so convinced of that wearing contact lens was what I needed that I kept asking. I was very determined and was just not going to give up. My hopes were soaring high as I had visions of going to school looking like a completely different person; a person who was pretty and beautiful. How I held on to that dream! My parents finally made an appointment for me to see the eye doctor and I kept my hopes up for my first pair of contact lens.

On the day of the appointment, I found that it was my dad, not my mom, who would take me to the doctor. This was a much unexpected surprise because my mom went to all of our medical appointments and sometimes dad came too when he wasn’t working and when the appointment was for a serious illness or injury. But this time, it was just my dad and that worried me but I still was holding on to my dream of being a different person who looked beautiful because I was no longer wearing glasses. We went to the doctor where my eyes were examined. My father was quiet and waited patiently. Then much to my surprise and crushing dismay, the doctor would not recommend contact lens for me. I couldn’t believe it; I was so sure that the doctor would agree I could have them. We left the office and climbed back into the truck. I looked at the floor and wouldn’t even lift my head. I felt so defeated as my hopeful dream dissipated to nothing.

Dad took a deep breath and said in a most gentle voice, “I knew the doctor would say that.”

I burst into tears, “I don’t like my glasses, I want to be pretty!”

Dad sighed again and wiped a tear from my cheek, “You are pretty and you have a beautiful smile.” I wasn’t so sure and continued to sob. Dad was especially gentle that day as he let me cry for a while. When my tears started to subside he spoke again, “You need to keep wearing your glasses not just to see but to also protect your good eye.”

He then told me a story about his dad, my grandfather. One day long ago when my dad was young, my grandfather was chopping wood. He did not wear glasses, goggles, or any sort of eye protection. He brought down the ax splitting a chunk of wood. A wood chip flew up and sailed into my grandfather’s eye splitting his lens. My grandfather became blind in that eye.  Dad had never forgotten that and apparently always worried that something could happen to me; an unexpected mishap could cause me to lose vision in my only good eye. He did not like it when I would come home from school, take my glasses off and refuse to wear them again until the next day. He also did not like it when I would sit in the car without my glasses and have the window rolled down. He always worried that something was going to happen to my only good eye.

So after listening to my dad’s story and hearing the worry in his soft voice that day, I reluctantly and dutifully gave up my dream of wearing contact lens and to this day I never have worn them. However I still did not wear my glasses all the time either. I never thought I would meet up with an accident which would endanger my only good eye. Little did I know that over 20 years later my dad’s words would return to haunt me.

I grew up, went to college, found a job, and started living on my own. Mom and dad were only a phone call away and dad still found ways to help me. He helped me to purchase my first car, and came up with a plan for me to be safe on the road. He intensely worried when I did so much traveling alone and didn’t like the idea of me becoming stranded far from any source of help. So he came up with plan for me to be able to summon help on the road if I needed it. I still have that plan in place today and, yes, I have used it when I’ve had  emergencies while traveling.

One summer day while living on my own, a few years after my father had passed away, I was mowing my lawn. I was not wearing my glasses at the time nor was I wearing any other type of eye protection. As I mowed around a tree in the front yard, I gasped as I spotted a wood chip flying in the air towards me. My dad’s words instantly came to my mind as I thought of the wood chip that struck my grandfather. As quickly as I could, I tried to turn my face away from the tiny, flying missile propelled by the swift blade of the lawn mower. No matter how fast I tried to turn, I wasn’t fast enough. At the last possible second my eyes blinked shut. The wood chip barreled and impaled itself in the inner corner of my right eye; my good eye. I was unable to reopen my eyes and fell to the ground with my hands clutching my face in pain. I hovered on the ground in tears and in total darkness. Unbelievably, it seemed that my father’s worst fear for me would come true.

Being single and completely on my own, no one was there to come to my aid.  I sat hunched over in agony not knowing what to do. Those moments in utter and complete darkness were the some of the most frightening moments I’ve ever had as I remained curled on the ground. However I needed to quiet my tears and regain my calmness as I needed to help myself.  Taking several deep breaths, I gently felt my face letting my fingers slowly travel across my skin until I found the invading speck of wood firmly lodged in the inner corner of my right eye socket. I hesitated and then not knowing what else to do, I gripped it firmly and pulled it out. I felt for signs of bleeding but didn’t find any so I slowly opened my eyes. I was so immensely relieved that I could see. Daylight had never looked more precious. But now my eye still hurt and everything around me was blurry.

I went to Urgent Care as soon as I could see clearly enough. The doctor was very alarmed when he realized that I had injured my only good eye. He examined me and conducted deep eye scans to ensure there was no hidden damage from the accident. Although my eye was painfully sore and red, he didn’t find any signs of deep or permanent injury. It seemed that the involuntary blinking of my eyes is what saved me from serious harm. The very concerned doctor reiterated what my dad had said all those years ago; I needed to do whatever I can to protect my eye which meant I needed to wear my glasses! I was incredibly thankful for this good fortune and was sure that God in heaven had kept me safe that day.

Since that time, I have become more cautious in life to protect myself from danger and most certainly, any danger that threatened my eyes. I wear my glasses almost all the time now with the exception of taking some photographs of myself. I have learned to like and appreciate my glasses more than I used to. I now have a good understanding of how enduring years of teasing can affect someone and I have seen bullying, teasing and disparaging, hurtful remarks extend into the adult world; it is not confined to the school halls and playgrounds. I’ve especially witnessed it in various forms in the social media.

Therefore, I try to encourage others because I had been so discouraged in my own life especially through my school years. And God in his own loving way continues to be good to me by blessing me in special ways. He has led to me to a career where I help, instruct, and encourage others.  I also know now that dad was trying in his own quiet way to encourage me even when he had to say no. Furthermore, I also better understand that when my stern father said no to those contact lens so many years ago, it wasn’t just to protect my eye from sudden danger and save me from blindness.  But when dad said no, it was because he loved me so.

Guest Writer: Kathy B May 31 2014

Every so often, I plan to let a guest writer or blogger share some of their creative writings on my blog. I asked my cousin Kathy if she would like to share because she is a talented poet and writer who clearly writes with her heart. Today, she had been fondly thinking of her parents who both have passed away and wrote this heartfelt poem as a special tribute to them:


Special Memories

By Kathy B:

Lord, bring to my mind memories sweet and precious that help me see Your hand at work in my life over the days and years gone by. I praise You today for memories that make me smile – I will never forget.

I recall when you sat up with me night after night when I was ill,

I recall the healing touch of your motherly, gentle hands on me still.

Dad, I recall your roaring laugh when I said or did something to tickle your funny bone,

It would rise above the noisy din as if it were for my ears alone.

Take care you both until we meet again in our eternal home.