Life is a gift…

Continuing my series on Lessons from My Father, my dad definitely lived this example. He was a fighter until the end, fighting for the life he’d been given; to make the most of it. Dad believed that he was saved by grace, to do good works. He didn’t believe he was just supposed to clock out and sit on the sidelines. He wasn’t supposed to let things beat him down, but rather never give up. Take care of yourself, take care of the life you have been given. It’s a gift, do something with it.

Whether or not you believe in creation, evolution, or whatever theory you have for why you are here; statistically it’s amazing that in all the entire universe, you exist. That’s a gift. Don’t take it for granted.

My Dad’s life was a miracle

When my dad was 21, he was in a tragic accident that burned nearly all of his upper body. His face and his hands were forever scarred as a result. He spent more than a year in the hospital, in numerous reconstructive surgeries. This was in 1951. I don’t really know how long he was unconscious for, nor how much of the trip he remembers from the lumber camp to Toronto. Nor how many days was the pain too severe to handle. It’s too much for me to even imagine.

Depressed & ready to give up

He was depressed at first thinking that his life was over. But as the staff in the hospital cared for him, and as he made friends despite his deformity, he realized that maybe he can make something of his life after all. He didn’t “need” his hands to make a living, to make a life; there were other things he could do.

Learning the ‘Tricks To Live’

Dad had very limited motor skills. His fingers were mostly fused together and he had a hard time grabbing things. I remember that he would use pencils, pens, rounded kitchen knives, anything he could find as a tool do pick things up. He had to learn how to do things on his own, and there were tricks for everything.

“Dad you’re bleeding again”

Dad’s disabilities didn’t stop him from home improvement projects. Unfortunately, the diminished sensation in his hands and arms meant that he wouldn’t notice that he had cut himself. If he didn’t see the blood flowing first, we’d have to let him know; “Dad you’re bleeding again!” Yes, this was said many, many times over the years, but it didn’t stop him. He would work on the cars, change the oil, switch out belts, even do body work on cars. He would mow the lawn, all sorts of home repairs. He’d build walls, hang sheetrock, fix up stuff, all the time. Dad taught me not to use your disabilities, your weaknesses, as an excuse. You can still do it. You can figure it out. You can figure out a way.

Chopping Wood

My dad chopping wood was a sight to see, and not just that he did it all the way up until he turned 90. Again, with his limited motor skills, he had developed tricks for everything. He mastered his use of tools. Also, being super frugal, dad would fix up old tools, make his own handles, etc. His wood cutting set-up would be embarrassing if you were entering a contest. But it worked. And he would chop would, preparing for winter. He’d stack it, build places to store it; expanding one shelter, and then another. No, nothing was ‘up to code.’
We don’t heat with a wood stove like dad did, but the lesson still works for me. I don’t know if my dad liked chopping wood, since he did it to take care of his ‘country place’. He did lot’s of yard work. I need to do more yard work. I need to do a better job taking care of things like he did.

Walk More

Dad liked to walk. I never really did enjoy it much myself. He used to walk every day. When I was younger, he used to walk around the neighborhood. Later, he would just do laps around his three acres. This is “pre iPod” so he didn’t listen to anything. He just walked. I think he talked to himself when he did it. Probably talked with God too. Probably solved a lot of problems.
A couple years ago, I started walking regularly with my friends. I have since learned that it does wonders for my soul, and I am pretty sure it’s good for my health too. We do two miles, three times a week in our little group. Usually there are just two of us, but sometimes three.

Fight for the life you have been given

I remember three days before my dad passed away, he had a ‘good day’ where he was alert again. He started talking about needing to get walking again, and get his strength back. He grabbed a ‘rubber stretchy band-thing’, and was using it with his legs to build up his strength. He believed he could get better, even though it was obvious that the cancer was winning and we were near the end. Dad still had a lot of fight left in him.

Lesson #14- Life is a gift. Walk more, Chop wood, Don’t give up. Fight for the life you have been given.

Thanks dad. I’ll do my best.