Father's day is coming. My Grandpa Powell says it's prejudiced that missionaries can call home on Mother's Day but not on Father's Day. I'm glad I call this year from around the globe. Lately, things I've been reading and things that friends have shared with me, combined with the holiday, have been on my mind. Right now I feel like I owe a tribute to the important men in my life.
According to the Family Proclamation, gender is eternal. It goes beyond our physical selves, beyond the time or circumstances of birth. I think of Adam, the prototype man, who left paradise for Eve's sake and to be the protector and father of the human family. After the Savior and Joseph Smith, I think he must be the greatest hero in human history and a type of Christ. This proves that before there were cars or electronics or organized sports or cologne, there were men. While sports and other pursuits may be important to a man, it does not define who he is. In a world where ideals of manhood are associated with trash talking and physical prowess or other shallow elements, I think we must look to the Savior, in whose image every man was made. When Pilate introduced him to the crowd just before they crucified him, he announced, "Behold the man!" Truer words were never spoken and here is a man who could weep, a man who was gentle, a man of sacrifice and duty to God. Even in his anger, he exercised such great control as when he cleansed the temple, but careful not to hurt the doves being sold, handed the cages to their owners with a terse "Take these hence."
With this in mind, I can't understand how certain cultures represent manhood--fathers who never say I love you because it wouldn't be manly or somehow associating male-ness with being a jerk, acting like a tyrant, etc. Our own culture is at fault, too. As television sitcoms are filled with fathers who are characterized as buffoons for the wife and kids to practice their sarcasm on--the Homer Simpsons and others who tell the world that men are lazy and incapable, I don't buy it. I reject every suggestion I've ever heard that somehow you just can't expect much from guys. I don't think the Lord placed significant eternal responsibilities and power where he did not think it could be managed and magnified. Think of Joseph Smith! A man's man in so many ways of whom we sing "Praise to the man!" He was a man who could do household chores, think of others, laugh, play hard and work hard. I really think that if he, say, drove a minivan, that his masculinity would be intact.
And so I'm glad that my life is filled with a long long list of wonderful men: Father, brother-in-law, teachers, priesthood leaders, bishops (I'm so glad I can add Bishop Huang to that list), a mission president, prophets, apostles, and friends. I'm glad that in the church we recognize the sacrifice that women make to be mothers, to spend their time, energy and talents in being a homemaker, but I think that there is also an Adam-like sacrifice performed by fathers who give up some freedom to be providers. My brother-in-law, who studies fatherhood for a living, would say that it is 100% worth it. He could also give you better support than I for the fact that a father contributes far more than genetic material to his children.
I remember driving somewhere with my mom. I was a college freshman and was starting to appreciate life as I had known it. I said, "Thanks, Mom, for marrying Dad." She smiled smugly and said, "Yeah, I did good, huh." This most important man in my life, so far, my father, spent much of his time and energy in keeping the wolf from the door and taking care of me and my sisters. He's downright heroic and he so seldom thinks of himself, buys toys for himself, etc., that it is a real pleasure to watch him sit and enjoy things:humor, food, music (especially if its the music me and my sisters make, etc.). We always knew that we were #1 on his priority list, no question. When he came home from work, we knew that he was all ours to play with us, jump ont he trampoline with us and yes, to make us work in the garden. He helped around the house, picking up a broom to sweep the kitchen without thinking about it at all. We giggled at night when at the end of a day, we could hear him howling in joy or frustration over a basketball game and we'd delegate one of us to play the outraged 7-year old in a night gown. (Dad! We're trying to suh-leep!) But we loved him so much. He used to read to us at night: one chapter of the Book of Mormon and one chapter of one of his favorite adventure books from when he was a boy. --The Hobbit, Treasure Island, Robin Hood, Tom Sawyer, etc., with his head propped up against the wall near the light and the rest of him stretched out in the hall between our bedrooms.
I'm so proud of the fact that my dad instigates Family Home Evening, family prayers, family scripture study. I love to get a blessing under his hands. I can remember learning about repentance, God's plan and church service in quiet spontaneous moments. During Priesthood session, we always loved to have girl's night with the 6 of us, but the best part of the evening was having dad come home, sitting him down with some kind of dessert and having him tell us what the speakers talked about. My dad is a great story-teller but I think the best part was hearing in his voice how he felt about the gospel, the prophets, and his faith. Does it sound too ideal? Well, that's the kind of dad I have. He's the kind that holds you tight right before you get on a plane to leave the country for a year and whispers fervently, "I love you." He's always shown me he did in a million ways.
My dad is the best person to have sit by your hospital bed. He radiates unfailing steadiness. I remember his face, though, when he thought I was suffering. He would have traded places with me in a moment and said so. I remember as a teenager once worrying about my role, struggling to understand how a young woman fit into the gospel and feeling like I wasn't finding nearly enough women's voices in the scriptures. I thought of my dad and the way he felt about me--he thought I could do anything, wanted everything for me, and that's how I visualized what a heavenly father felt for me. I was filled confidence and when I encounter doubts, that memory stays with me.
It's been so thrilling to grow up and have my dad talk to me like he would to another adult, to counsel with me, comfort me, and encourage. One of the most bracing parts of my coming out here was to have my dad tell me he is excited for me and proud of me and that he feels it's the right thing to do. Before my mission he let me read his mission letters and journal. It was fun to hear about things through my father's 19-year old voice and know he felt the same things I did. That he was discouraged or felt inadequate or needed to know how much Heavenly Father loved him and also to feel his faith, know that he decided to become something for the rest of his life, see his creativity and desire. As a missionary I wondered when I told other people that God was a father, if the words would mean the same thing to them as it did to me, knowing that many of them did not have the same kind of father in their life.
I think that if Abraham, whose father wanted to kill him, could still have fatih and confidence and the desire to be a father of millions, that everyone must have some kind of pre-earth concept of what a father really is.
My nephew William Kerry Dyer was blessed the Sunday before I left. He was blessed to be an example of true Christ-like manhood and thinking about him, named for my sister's husband (also a prince among men) and his grandpa, I can't think of better examples for him to learn from. I could continue about so many of the men in my life. None of them are perfect, but oh, how much I've needed them.
Protectors, priesthood holders, and friends: I love you. Happy Father's Day.
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