When my Father died last year l recalled many memories with my brothers and sisters. We had great times recalling events and stories that had surrounded our lives for many years. Recently l saw a small leaflet called ‘Ten things l remember about my Dad’ and l began to think, what would be the ten things that l remember about my dad? Here are my ten.
The first thing l remember about my dad was when he used to get me to go out into the shed and clean his shoes. I hated it, because no matter how much time l spent, the shoes never shone - as he wanted them and time stood still. My father was a man of smart appearance. He was always turned out well. Even at camp, a shirt and tie were the order of the day. (I did learn to polish his shoes and mine, they required hard brushing and elbow grease.) My father was a man who had pride in his appearance. He thought that tidiness was normal and that keeping himself, the car, the house and the garden clean and tidy was important, especially as a christian.
The second thing l remember was that he was strong. Being brought up on the family coal firm, he had developed real strength and stamina. He told me recently that he could deliver two lorry loads of coal a day - by himself. ‘And the biggest thing was filling the bags by yourself’ he said. He had always been a labouring man, working by the strength of his arm. He was a great supporter of the Labour party as most working men were. One year at camp he bet all the young men £5, that they could not climb up the marquee pole ropes, using only their hands. Nobody ever made it, but he did and he did it so quickly and effortlessly.
Thirdly, l must mention his faith. He was a man of unbreakable convictions. I don’t ever remember him giving his testimony, but l remember his preaching. It was easy to understand, down to earth and solidly fundamental. He had gone with his parents to the Presbyterian Church as a boy, but had associated himself with the Christian Brethren as a youth. There he developed a deep reverence for the Word of God and he had been encouraged to preach. In those days, he was secretary of the Shrewsbury Christian Youth, an interdenominational group of 400+ members. He was no intellectual, he was a man of practical faith. He was always preaching a ‘Christ centred Gospel’ somewhere. When the war broke out, he was a ‘conscientious objector’ (although he was exempt from action due to his occupation). He won his case and went out with the Royal Air Force as a fitter’s assistant. He met my mother at an evangelistic meeting, at a break in training. (She was singing on the platform). He was a man who knew what he believed, some would say ‘firm’, others ‘stubborn’. His children at times ‘unyielding’. His children were like him and huge ‘conflicts of will’ ensued as they grew up.
When he was posted to the western desert, he found that men trusted him because he was totally reliable. He got a job in the wages department. This is the next thing l remember about him. If he made a promise to you - he kept it. He was a man of honesty. Often he would come home with cigarettes in his pocket. Not because he smoked, he was looking after them for others. We were quite poor in those days. Feeding six children must have been difficult. We kept chickens and had a huge vegetable patch. I spent many an hour standing leaning on a fork in the garden.
The next thing that comes to mind was his laughter. We had family jokes, and when they were repeated he would howl with laughter. He had a great sense of humour, just the same as my mother. His humour was very dry and subtle. He would roar at the story of the black man who when he was being baptised and when asked what he believed he said ‘I believe - your trying to drown me’.
He was a man loyal to his wife and whose love for her was the most important thing in his life. He was proud of her ability to sing and would insist on her singing whenever he went out preaching. This didn’t mean they never had differences. They did, but they worked through them and were still together at the end, as at the beginning. For him the children were important, but his wife came first.
The seventh thing I remember about my dad was that we seldom sat down on a Sunday afternoon without visitors. He was a man of hospitality. He had learnt the value of taking in strangers when he was serving in the Middle East. On the night of the Battle of El-Alamein, he was being baptised in a pool in the backgarden of a house in Jerusalem. The war had given him a world perspective. It had made him what he was, but he could never forgive Hitler for keeping him from his mother during her closing years. When problems arose with the Christian Brethren he moved the family to the Baptists, were he saw a number of his children converted and baptised, but when problems arose there, he moved back to the Christian Brethren. He was a protestant through and through and a nonconformist at heart. He initial efforts to shield his children from Church of England influence at school eventually relaxed. However, his generosity always shone through. Even in times of shortage, speaker’s, missionaries and especially blind christians were found around the family Sunday tea table.
His greatest achievement was in the organisation of the Shropshire Assemblies Young Peoples Christian Camp and of his association with Bob Watson. The Camps were his brainchild, and his life work. Hundreds of people came to the camps over the years and they found my dad as Commandant, or ‘Comy’ as he was called. With Phil Bellingham and Edwin Hannay, they were a formidable team. On the first camp at least fifteen people were converted and as many Christians renewed their commitment to the Lord. I was converted at the first Camp. The Camp ran on the same pattern for ten years. The Shrewsbury Assembly was built up and many of his children found their sweethearts at camp.
The last thing l remember about my dad, was that no matter who loved and respected him - worldwide, he was My Dad. In the latter days, before he lost his mind and his faculties, he was a delight just to be with. I used to sit and ask him questions about his earlier life, the war and the people he knew. I remember too, years before, being so proud of him when one night unexpectedly, he said to me ‘Go and get you best clothes on were going out’. He took me to St John’s Hill Methodist Church, Shrewsbury, to listen to Dr Martyn Lloyd-Jones.
S Pugh
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