Life Matters - June 21, 2026

Somewhere in the neighborhood of 30 years ago, when in my mid-30s, I hugged my dad for the first time in about 30 years. I was a little boy of about 5 or 6 when I first felt rejected by, and ceased to hug, the man who; so I thought back then; could do no wrong. I must have been a sensitive child with deep emotions as I can still feel how it felt to feel rejected. Sixty years ago.  

Two more incidents followed between then and becoming a teenager. Those incidents (probably not meant as they felt) coupled with me being of a quiet nature with a deep-seated strong will, turned out a full-blown rebel by the mid-teens. By God’s grace and many prayers, I’m sure, I made it through those years, settled down, was baptized, became a member of the church of my forefathers, proposed to the love of my life, married her and so began a family. 

The time came when we moved on church-wise, and then from the State of Pennsylvania to the State of Kentucky. By my mid-30s I had 2 sons of my own besides 4 lovely daughters. I seemed to relate well with my daughters but relating to growing sons stirred in me a sense of growing desperation. The day came, in my mid-30s, when preparing for another PA trip to visit family – I finally faced up to those feelings of rejection.  

‘’Dad seems to have accepted me, loves me, loves my wife, my children, always seems glad to see us,’ I thought as I made trip preparations, ‘then why do I still sort of dread seeing him?’ I could have blamed it on us moving away, having moved on from the ‘’mother-church’. Except I couldn’t. I knew better. Dad had let me know that he understood. 

A great longing rose in my heart to have my dad hug me – to let me know that all was well between us – to be loved and accepted by him. I wanted to share those things with him – to tell him how I felt – but I knew myself too well, knew I would lock up in his presence. Then, as I pondered, it was like a light went on in my head, settled into my heart. 

‘’What if’, I thought, ‘Dad feels the same as I do – wants to communicate – but feels locked up in the same way?’ It was a new thought to me and one that I allowed to take me places I’dnever gone before. As I reflected on how it must’ve been when Dad, being a teenager (an exciting time of life in my generation) during the Great Depression, then in his 20s during the 2ndWorld War – which time he spent in civil service – got married, fathered, and with hard work, raised eleven children on the eighty acre farm of my mostly delightful upbringing, practically wore himself out for his children. And for the church in which he was a deacon. A church that suffered a painful division when I was but a baby. All that with emotions probably as deep as mine. And like me – at times didn’t know how to uncork without exploding. I reflected upon the stoic Scandinavian background – the hardships – the disappointments – the disillusionments – and found my heart going out to this man we call Dat. I purposed in my heart to hug him when we visited this time.  

I prayed about it. I didn’t know how this would go. As usual we had a pleasant visit. As usual Dad and Mom were both glad to see us and we had a pleasant time at their home in the on-farm ‘daudy-haus’, into which they had moved when the farm was passed into the hands of the next generation. Dat’s flowing white beard glowed in the sunshine lighting up the room as we visited. Mam made sure we were well fed and the children chose gifts from the tables and shelves in her basement store. When they came back to the living room we all relaxed and visited a while longer. 

It was time to go. My stomach tightened a bit. I felt like a chicken. Or a little boy. What if I was in for more rejection…? What then? 

I said goodbye to Mam and like always – hugged her – and kissed her cheek. I approached Dat’s chair. He stood. Suddenly it was easy. I opened my arms. He melted into them. We  hugged.  I kissed him on the cheek like I always did Mam. I said goodbye, stood back a step and with something of a thrilling shock looked full in his face. What had I expected? I don’tknow, really. But I was certainly reassured. Dat loved it. His face shone – his eyes were soft and twinkly. 

For an ever-precious moment we gazed into each other’s softened brown eyes – a father and a son so much alike we both understood. All was well between us. 

Life Matters!