Spending a few days with my wonderful family reminds me again just how blessed I am to have a godly heritage. And with Father’s Day just around the corner, I wanted to share a bit about my Dad, Rev. Eddie Smith- my first hero!
My dad provided so much more than a roof over our heads and food on the table- his was an active, vital role in the forming of the souls of his three children- my sister, brother, and me.
And who could have asked for a better daddy?
I remember all the stories about “when you were little”, all the mud pies and saw-dust soups he had to “eat”, and all the pretend games he participated in when I was a little girl. My dad never seemed to think they were silly and I learned the value of imagination at a very young age! I remember all the bike rides, stops at the snow cone stand, trips out to our “ranch” to feed the cows, all the bumpy rides in our old Jeep… my daddy taught me that time spent with family is never wasted or forgotten .
It was my dad who taught me how to shoot a gun, fish and hunt, paint, mow the lawn, and drive… yet he always knew how to make me feel like a lady! My sister and I knew that at least one man in the world believed that we were beautiful, talented and smart! Our ability to go through the teen years with quiet confidence, unshaken by the questions and doubts of our peers, is largely due to his loving affirmation. My daddy taught me the true value of femininity.
I watched my dad serve in the ministry with a humble spirit and an earnest heart, never seeming to tire from the endless tasks and responsibilities of being a pastor. By example, he taught me to stand alone and never fear going against the crowd. I always knew the Source of his strength and his example gave me something to strive toward. My dad taught me that faithful obedience to the calling of God is the greatest privilege on earth.
My dad taught me that people are more important than things, that integrity is better than popularity, and that true success lies in pleasing God alone.
So how do I summarize the legacy given to me by my father? It’s impossible to do so with mere words.
My prayer is that my life will somehow honor the heritage of godliness he and my mother have left to my siblings and me. My dad is not a perfect man; merely a man striving after the heart of a holy God. And, as he has followed Christ, by God’s grace, so will I.