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Remembering my dad and all he taught me

I remember my dad’s encouraging words throughout my life, “You can do this. Keep trying.” I remember how he encouraged me for hours while I practiced my free throws –– hoping to make the basketball team.

I remember Thursday night church visitation. A group always gathered at church for prayer and then visited those they felt God had put on their heart. I learned from Dad the importance of crying out to my Heavenly Father on behalf of others.

My dad was a fixer. He could fix anything that had a motor. He would tinker for hours on one of his old tractors.

I learned how to drive one of those tractors under his tutelage. It was great fun until the day that I hit the house coming around the corner a little too fast. Obviously, he was better at fixing the tractor than teaching me how to drive it. My dad instilled within me the need to be a fixer –– whatever the problem.

My dad was a builder. He and my uncle built the house my family lived in for more than 60 years. He taught me the importance of building up people. He was an encourager to all who knew him.

I remember at his funeral, people kept telling me about how Mom and Dad had been a friend to them and helped them.

My dad was a teacher. I remember sitting at the dining room table the night before

I began my first job. I would be operating a cash register and I worried that if I did not count the money back to the customer correctly that by the end of the day my boss would not be happy with me. Dad sat with me as I went over every combination of change I might give to a customer. My dad taught me to teach by example –– no matter what the lesson.