It’s a time of the year when many of us are nostalgic, especially when the one we’re celebrating and thinking about has already slipped into eternity.
On Sunday, June 16, we, Filipinos, are joining the global community in observing Father’s Day.
The day is meant to “honor fatherhood and the positive role that fathers and father figures play in the lives of their children and families.”
It’s been two decades and a half since our Father went home to the Lord, whom he faithfully served for about 60 years as a preacher. Even on his sick bed, Tatay Leo was still deeply involved in the church ministry through his prayers and the sharing he made with those who visited him.
My father was well-read. He was constantly updating himself with issues – local, national and international. His regular mails included magazines and other publications from abroad (those that were circulated free or were given as subscription gifts by overseas friends).
Workers at the provincial post office must have been used to his name that, several times, I recall, I picked up from the municipal post office overseas mail matters addressed to him with no street or town indicated – just his name and “Negros Occidental, Philippines” on the addressee’s space on the envelope.
As I’ve written in the past, he was a Manila Times subscriber, the copies delivered home late in the day by a bus driver who made quick stops in his route to drop their copies in his route. He spent time reading the daily paper prior to our evening devotionals and also early on the following day.
My interest in journalism was apparently triggered by my father’s following of daily events and issues. I was told by my mother that, at my young age, before I could read and write, I was already engaged in a daily ritual – lying on the floor pretending to read the copy of the newspaper delivered the evening before (at times holding it upside down).
The experience eventually also served as my introduction to the world of comic pleasure through the exploits of Mutt and Jeff, Tarzan, Sluggo, Nancy and Henry.
Father’s sermons were complemented by a number of the daily issues he read, making them relevant, timely and a little more interesting.
He thirsted not only for information. His sense of wonder was active even in his old age. “How does the internet work?” he asked me one morning when I visited him. And he followed up. “What about the email?”
I explained to him the advances in technology and how it was revolutionizing communication and social interaction. “Get well soon,” I told him, “and I’ll make you an email address.”
I never had the opportunity to do so as shortly, he passed away – in November 1999, just a day after my birthday and just a little more than a month away from his desire to experience life at the turn of the century.
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Father was a visionary – leader and educator.
• He initiated the organization of a group of about 20 Baptist churches in southern Negros and Palawan which has grown bigger under a new affiliation.
• He and his colleagues established a Christian high school in 1953 which continues to provide a Bible-oriented education for southern young people down to the elementary level now.
• He founded a Bible school, which still provides theological education for future church leaders not only in southern Negros but also in other parts of the country.
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As Father’s Day approached this week, my Facebook memory flashed a short essay I wrote about 10 years ago, in memory and honor of my father – which I am reproducing below.
FATHER’S DAY THOUGHTS
Embracing the Epistemology of Nature and Faith by the Beach when I Was 4
Our hands clasped – his giant fingers on my tiny palm as down the beach we walked one late summer afternoon.
“Look at that… it’s so beautiful,” he said while pointing at the fluffy clouds almost covering the orange sun, which was about to slip into its cage – a splendid background to endless waves rushing in symphony to the shore.
“Who owns them?” My innocence asked.
“They are ours.” His gentle voice replied.
“But how, for we are poor, my clothes are old and tattered and sometimes I go hungry?” I persisted.
“Because they belong to God, who made them.”
“And…?” I continued, hoping for an explanation.
“We are God’s children and what is His is also ours, that’s why we have to take good care of them.”
His unsophisticated logic stuck in my young mind, the epistemology has enveloped my being since that walk by the shore one late summer when I was 4.
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As I had earlier mentioned, Tatay labored to spread God’s word and love for decades until his last days on earth. The long lines during his wake and sendoff spoke of the breadth and width of how he touched people’s lives as God’s servant.
Happy Father’s Day to all.
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“My child, listen when your father corrects you. Don’t neglect your mother’s instruction. What you learn from them will crown you with grace and be a chain of honor around your neck.” (Proverbs 1:8-9) | NWI
