Friday, March 23, 2018

The Melody of My Father’s Love

June 7, 2007 by  
Filed under Monthly Articles

The Melody of My Father’s Love
My name is Jennifer. I am in my twenties and the youngest of my parents children. It is late, well after midnight but I know there is a 99% chance we’ll hear the notes of the melody of my father’s love as soon as I open the door.

Watch your step. Hear that? Yes, I’m talking about the snoring. Come let’s go through the kitchen into the living room. Dad will be on the couch.


I could sit here all night and listen to that sound of love. Yes, I’m still talking about the snoring. See, my daddy loves me, he has always waited up for me. He’s older now and I think he falls asleep earlier but he is waiting for me nonetheless. He could have gone to bed, after all, I’ve never not come home, but he waits. Each snore is a note of the song of his life, the melody of my father’s love.


Take a look at the book on his chest, it’s written by Charles Finney. He was a great preacher of the 1800s. Every late night I come in, it’s either Daddy’s Bible or a book from a great minister of the past. Those books are another part of the melody of Daddy’s love. He reads them day and night, but, when he is not reading he is teaching them to me and my siblings. Through the years he has taught us about faith, hope and charity from these books and most importantly his life. He taught us to read, to seek the answers to the questions of life. He has raised us to do the one thing he never wanted us to do: leave home. He has prepared us the best he could.


See his shirt? It has the emblem for his favorite baseball team, another thing that tells me he loves me. How? Through sports he taught us to be competitive but to be fair, to have a passion for something but not to put it out of perspective. He loves baseball and he would take us to games; we didn’t go for the game. We went for each other. Many dads because they love winning more, don’t realize it but they teach their kids that other people are not important. Through sports our dad taught us everyone has value. If someone hit home runs all the time or struck out every time up Dad would always tell us, “Don’t boo Christ died for that guy. Or, don’t cheer too loud, Christ gets the glory! ”
Notice his fingernails. That’s right, his fingernails, they are definitely not manicured. Never have been. I’m twenty five years old and I’ve never seen him use nail clippers or a file. He bites them, just another note of the melody of his love. How so you ask? I’m sure he bit some off tonight waiting for his baby to come home. He wouldn’t worry about me if he didn’t love me.


Now look at one last thing. On the table next to the couch, right there by his head are his wallet and his keys. Notice how his shoes with socks are right under his wallet and keys on the floor. He didn’t have his shoes on or his stuff in his pockets because he had enough faith in me and the Lord to relax, knowing I would eventually be okay but everything is still right there. He would be ready to leave within seconds if I needed him. His love is always ready for action.


This is my Dad, and the notes in the melody of his love for me will never be fully numbered.
“Dad, Dad, it’s me, Jennifer. I’m home.”
“Oh Jennifer it’s so nice to see you. I tried to stay up but . . . ”
“It’s okay Dad I know. We both need to get our rest. We should be getting off to bed.”
“Did you just get home?”
“I’ve been home a little while just listening to your snore.”
“Good night Jennifer.”
“Good night Dad. I love you.”
“I love you too.”


My name is Timothy Johnson. I am Pastor of Countryside Baptist Church of Kingman IN. I am also a correctional officer for the Federal BOP.  My wife’s name is Julie and we have 4 grown children and 6 grandchildren. My e-mail address is:
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