"Mockingbird"

My Dad, he loved a mockingbird,

He loved to hear one sing,

As a kid I found out, there was something about,

That song that just beat everything.

And Dad, He used to whistle,

And oftentimes he’d sing,

I never thought why, let the question slip by,

But now to my mind it will bring,

A memory of Dad that I treasure,

‘Cause he could have always been sad,

Seen the nightmare of war, and deaths by the score,

And lots of his life had been bad.

Sometimes the dark side, it got him,

His anger would come rushing through,

I learned to move quick, to dodge that big stick,

You never knew what he would do.

Sometimes at night there were poems,

Aloud to his family he’d read,

We’d sit by the fire, it was his desire,

To inspire us and get burdens freed.

I remember when I sat beside him,

In church I remember his hands,

I’d trace out the lines, calloused old signs,

He taught never “I can’t” just “I cans.”

We were always out there working cattle,

And if you’ve ever done that before,

You know it’s high stress, and always a mess,

Brings out all your best, but worst more.

But I’ve never seen anybody,

Who could sort ‘em the way that he did,

And come on “catch, pass” and out on that grass,

I learned it from him as a kid.

So singing and working and whistling,

All memories of Dad long ago,

Gone twenty-plus years and still sometimes tears,

When I think of all to him I owe.

And how should I show that I love him,

And honor his memory to all,

I’ll whistle and sing and work hard to bring,

Encouraging words to walk tall.

And there, just there sits a mockingbird,

Outside of my window he sings,

Dad loved that old bird, each time that he heard,

And it still will just beat everything.

“He is my God, and I will praise Him, my father’s God, and I will exalt HIm…” (Exodus 15:2, NIV)

My father’s God is the God I love and serve. Dad loved Him, too, but in different ways that I can express. I used to judge my Dad’s relationship with God. But no more. Why? At the end of his life he showed very clear evidence of knowing the Savior. He believed the right things his whole life. But he lived out those things in unmistakable ways for several years before he went home to be with the Lord. At his funeral they rang a church bell that had been given to the church but that they had never rung before. In fact Dad had asked them to ring it on Sunday before church but they had never done it. On that day they did. They rang it eleven times as we all sat and listened. I heard the Lord say, “It’s time for you to ring the bell I’ve given you.” That’s what I’ve tried to do, by His grace, ever since. My father’s God called to me.

Lord, help us to take what was given to us by our parents and honor You with it, in Jesus’ name.

Art by Tyler Crow, tylercrow.com. Used by permission. Thanks, Tyler, and God bless you.