happy birthday, dad

my dad is the greatest dad.



1. he's a virtuosic public speaker.

but not the kind of virtuosity that makes you (the audience) walk away feeling like -- WOW, he knows everything and i learned one thing.

but instead the kind of virtuosity that looks like -- WOW, i care so much more about that issue now! and i understand the fundamental questions at stake.

2. he's the kind of dad who never made his virtuosity an excuse for being a better or worse father.

in other words, for most of my childhood i grew up with a profound sense that who my dad was as a preacher was largely unrelated to who he was as a father. the people who lived around me contradicted that notion, but the strongest influence was always my dad -- who was always most interested in me and our relationship and our family's relationship first / foremost / and regardless of his professional career.

3. my dad prepared me well for the world.

He taught me how to:

chop down a tree -- chainsaw or axe,
tie a boat to a dock,
shoot a gun,
blaze a trail,
clear a trail,
navigate the woods,
catch a ball,
throw a ball,
hit a ball,
run (or walk) a distance,
how to try uncomfortable things,
how to persist in the face of great sorrow,
how to change the oil,
frame in a wall,
hook up basic electric,
fix my plumbing,
carry my books by my side not in front,
act like a gentleman -- hold open doors,
end any song by ascending up the keyboard on 1-5, 3-5, 1-5, 3-1, 3-5, 3-1, etc. (of whatever your resolving chord is)
introduce anyone to anyone else in a social situation,
how to cook eggs and french toast,
how to study both sides of everything,
how to listen,
how to grow with grace,
how to act in institutions (politically, expediently, yet with integrity).

But he also taught me BIGGER things like --
getting burned by someone who you choose to extend grace to is better than not extending grace.
And -- "if you want to find Ed Rudd (*read: the best you can be) find the darkest dirtiest hole where no one else wants to be, and you'll find Ed Rudd* shoveling in the bottom of that hole."
And -- that faithfulness means making fifteen sandwiches every morning before school for your kids
and always being vigorous about proclaiming the most beautiful features of the woman you love
and sitting in a very cramped nursing home corner learning the habit of birdwatching just to recover some of the beauty that your confined father can no longer walk toward.

4. My dad cares about me.

In college he wrote me a letter every single day. Seriously. Every day. At least once a month my WHOLE LIFE he took me to a long breakfast and listened and talked and cared about everything I said. Everytime we talk he tells me how much he loves me and how proud he is of me. Every horrible day of high school. Sitting alone at a table I would open my paper bag and pull out a napkin that said "We are SOOOO proud of you son..." and on many of those days the napkin would name a specific thing they were proud of.

5. My dad wants to have a relationship with me as an adult.

That's uncommon. I know it from my friends, and I'm incredibly grateful for it.

on May 6. each year we celebrate his birthday -- but its his life that I celebrate. I feel grateful and fortunate for being the lucky guy who happened to get assigned this dad.

Happy Birthday, Dad!