My Dad...A tribute to Him

He wore Boots, But he didn't carry a pistol...what he did carry was our Hearts...🧡🧡 

A father's day tribute for my dad....

My dad wasn't just a man who wore cowboy boots, he was the BOOTS!  Worn-in, dependable, dusted with hard work ethics, and built to carry the weight of others. 

He passed away in 2017, but he left behind a proud legacy. He was born the baby of fifteen children which meant he knew the meaning of love.  He also knew that being the baby, he was spoiled. But, even with that last child charm, he worked harder than most. 

He built homes....real homes....not just with nails and wood, but with pride, integrity, and the kind of craftsmanship you don't see much anymore. 

My dad was a home builder by trade, but also by heart. He didn't just build walls and roofs, he built trust in those he did business with and with those who knew him.

If you saw him on a job, you might have mistaken him for the sheriff in town.  LOL..Cowboy boots, jeans, western shirts with snaps and that ever-present cowboy hat that he always wore. He looked the part, and he was the part!!  Strong and steady! He had a tough exterior, but he also had a heart that loved deeply. 

He adored my mother....truly adored her, and he loved us kids in a deep unwavering way that never ever left room for doubt. 

Life did not come easy for him. Being the baby in his family, his schooling went to the wayside. I'm assuming that by the time the 15th child came along, it took most of my grandparents time just to farm and survive. My mother was the one who taught him to read after they were married. Although he only completed the 8th grade in school, he did not let that hold him back. He had strong hands and an unstoppable drive to succeed. He built a life literally from the ground up. As a builder and contractor, he took pride in every house he built. Each one carried his signature, a foundation laid with skill and care.

When my dad was around 45 years old, he had his first of FOUR open heart surgeries, but after each of these surgeries, he came back swinging, ready to continue on with life. When my sister passed away, he and my mother didn't hesitate to step up and raise her three children. Their ages at that time were 11, 8 and 3 years old.  It was like my parents were raising a second family. 

This is the kind of man my dad was...A man who showed up and took care of responsibilities, again and again. 

He had a way with words and you always knew when he meant business. But, he also had a softness in his voice when it came to the matter of faith and family. He loved the Lord with a sincere heart and I loved how he always carried his Methodist Men's marble in his pocket....always ready to pull it out and tell people what that marble was all about. 

(Years ago, many Methodist men carried a small red marble in their pockets. It served as a simple yet powerful reminder of their commitment to faith, service and brotherhood. As my dad explained to us many times, the red marble wasn't a trinket for us kids to play with, it symbolized a personal vow to walk closely with God, to lead by example and to keep Christ at the center of their lives. For my dad, that red marble was always close, tucked safely in his pocket. Today, my oldest brother has my dad's red marble in a safe place. We often talk about how many miles that red marble traveled with my dad.) 

To me, my dad was more than just my dad. He was a man I loved dearly....including his boots, his humor and that old cowboy hat.  

I will always be proud to say, he was my dad, and even though he's gone, the things he built, both with his hands and with his heart, are still standing strong.  The little black stool he built for me many years ago...I still use almost everyday.  

Happy Father's day to my dad in heaven...

Shug. 

What?  No Cowboy hat?  A very rare photo of him without his hat!!

*** a short story about my dad.

He was always very particular about his dress attire. His boots were always shined and in great condition. Years after my mom passed away, and my dad's Alzheimers was getting worse, I stopped in to check on him. He was sitting in his recliner with a bottle of Black shoe polish, and he had completely covered his brown Ostrich boots with black shoe polish. I could feel myself gasping, but then I saw how happy he was and how pleased he was that his boots were shining.  He was so proud of them!