Last month, our family of six made our annual pilgrimage from our home in Central Texas to Southern California, where I spent the first thirty-two years of my life. You can take the girl out of California, but you can’t take California out of the girl, and I think I will forever identify as a Californian at heart. I love Texas, but California will always be home, especially since it’s where my parents still reside and (much to my great sadness) probably always will.
An interesting thing about our trips back to SoCal is that we are returning to Orange County, where I grew up, but not to the town that was home for three decades: my parents moved from my inland hometown to the beach shortly after we relocated to Texas, so visiting them doesn’t bring the same familiarity or nostalgia we would have if we were staying in my childhood home and frequenting the restaurants, parks, and hangouts of my youth. Instead, we are stepping into their new, retirement life, getting a chance to experience their world as it is today.
Thankfully for us, my parents lead a pretty awesome life! Staying with them means boat rides across the harbor, strolls through their waterfront community, picnics on the beach, fishing off the patio, and evenings enjoyed around a fire pit as the sun sets over the harbor. On this past trip, we got a few glimpses at their social lives too, as we had the chance to visit their two yacht clubs as well as the senior center where they are regular volunteers and the church where they worship every weekend.
An amazing thing about my parents is that they aren’t just attendees at these various spaces and communities; they are deeply invested in each one. My dad writes the newsletter for one club and serves as event photographer for two others; my parents have been on missions trips with half the members of their church; Mom and Dad both volunteer for the most menial jobs at each club and community, showing up at every opportunity to wash windows or stack chairs or visit prisoners or stuff flyers. (These are just the activities I know about; I’m certain there are dozens more!) And my mom and dad know EVERYONE: our trip involved a parade of new names and faces as my parents introduced me to their various friends in each space. If we were somewhere that they didn’t know anyone, that wasn’t the case by the time we left, because they make friends wherever they go.
For some people, being “in the know” is a matter of opportunism and social climbing. Not so for my parents. Mom and Dad aren’t extroverted by nature, and they care little about appearances of social standing, yet they are intentional about meeting people and investing in the lives of everybody around them. They learn names, ask about people’s lives, become deeply involved in their stories. And then they pray for these new friends and acquaintances, stay connected with them, continually show up and show that they care. Few of their friends share their politics or their faith, but those are nonissues for my parents: their own faith is undeniable, and they are open to discussing their love for the Lord at any time, but their loving actions and heartfelt attention carries far more influence than strident evangelism ever could.
During our week with my parents, I had the gift of taking a long walk with my dad through the neighborhood, just the two of us (plus Nico who was strapped to my chest). Their community is not a small one, yet Dad knew the name of every person we passed and made it a point to introduce me to each neighbor. To my delight (but not my surprise) he also knew the names of their dogs, their most recent vacation destinations, their favorite foods. . . it would shock me if he hadn’t sent small, thoughtfully curated gifts or text messages to half of these people, because that’s just who he is. Watching my dad is a masterclass in gentle socializing; he knows how to make friends, to ask questions, to listen—truly listen—to the things people are saying, to show genuine interest and care. It’s no wonder that my dad’s phone is always ringing: he is a reliable friend, always ready and willing to offer a hand or just listening ear.
Growing up, I was certain that our family was the only thing that mattered to my dad because he was so great at making us feel loved and cherished. It was impossible to imagine that there was anyone else in his life. As an adult, I see that our family DOES matter a great deal to my dad, but Dad is great at making EVERYONE around him feel like they matter. To know my dad is to feel seen and appreciated. And the intimacy he cultivates with each friend belies the breadth of his social circles.
It is no small thing to have a dad who models our Heavenly Father’s love for us so well. Dad has always shown me what it means to be fully known and seen and cared for. Dad delights in his kids, just as I imagine that the Lord delights in each of His children. God knows our names, knows everything about us, and still wants to spend time with us; He gives us good gifts, recognizes our needs, honors our preferences, knows the cravings of our souls. The interest and care my earthly dad shows to those around him—though incredible and inspiring—is a mere echo of the interest and care we receive from our Heavenly Father.
Father’s Day is this Sunday. I don’t know your situation: maybe, like me, you have a wonderful father whose love has been a guiding presence in your life. Give him a hug or a phone call this weekend to tell him thank you. (Or if you REALLY want to embarrass celebrate him, write a public blog post singing his praises. You do you.) But if your relationship with your dad is not a great one, if your dad was absent or abusive or unavailable, please know that you DO have a Father who knows your name, who loves you more than you could ever imagine, who can’t wait to spend time with you, who delights in you and would love for you to delight in Him, too. His arms are open and He can’t wait to envelop us in His overwhelming love.
