I played a recording of my dad today on my phone, an old voicemail that I have saved all this time. Even six years after he made it, I’ve kept it. It’s only seven seconds long, but to hear his voice, even for that short bit, well, it’s soothing and encouraging on occasions like today. Today would have been his 76th birthday and on some days (like today), I miss him more than others. He was my father, yes, but as we got older, he became my counselor, my friend, and especially my hero.
My dad was a hero when this former tough guy walked forward down the aisle one day in his church to receive Christ, got baptized immediately, and then served the Lord the rest of his life without ever looking back. He was a hero when, with tears of joy in his eyes, he walked my sister down that same church aisle to be joined to her groom. He was a hero when he preached only twice, and both times doing a horrible, awful exegesis but gave a message that was forever memorable because of his uncontrollable sobbing out of gratitude towards his Savior. He was a hero when he sang a solo with all his heart the simple words to “It is Well With My Soul.” And he remains a hero in my last memory of him sitting in his wheelchair scooter waving goodbye as I looked through my rearview mirror as I left in my rental car to the airport.
What’s amazing is how precious that seven-second recording is to me. A couple of times a year, I play that voicemail recording, a simple “hey Fran, this is your dad, call me when you can, bye-bye.” Over and over again, I play it just to hear his voice, his familiar intonation that reminds me of the many conversations we had from a distance. It’s that same soothing voice that had reminded me through the years of his favorite Scripture verses of Philippians 4:8 and Isaiah 40:31, words of wisdom when I saw how tough life could be. It’s that voice I miss.
Seven seconds is all I have, but I praise God that I even have that. Even more, I praise God that in the big picture, seven seconds is nothing compared to the eternity that he is spending with his Savior right now, an eternity that I will one day enjoy with him as well. After all, seven seconds is nothing compared to the eternity of God’s glory, because it will be well with our souls.
Happy Birthday, dad. I love you and miss you.