Daddy
My first memories of Daddy? Dale and me sitting between him and Mama in an old green GMC pickup that had a metal dashboard, as we told our older brothers good-bye. My twin brother and I had just been given away. Our new parents insisted on taking the both of us. Daddy used to grin and say God had blessed him with a "ready-made set" of children. Don't quite know if Mother saw it that way or not at the end of each day--she was already 47 (Daddy was 50) when they got us. T'would probably never happen today, but you see, God had a plan and Mama and Daddy had prayed and ask for a child. Mother used to wink at me at times and say she should have been more specific. I always knew she was teasing.    Dale and I were the youngest in a family of eight kids. We cried for our big sister and brothers, but soon, missing them was overtaken by our having been thrust into an environment where we were the center of attention. It was exciting! New places to go and people to meet--Daddy never missed an opportunity to show us off. Soon the two of us were singing "specials" in church, wearing new clothes Mama made for us.    Mama was our day-to-day disciplinarian, but sometimes our misdeeds warranted Daddy's involvement. Mama forgot her threats to spank us, but if our misbehavior got Daddy's attention, we could count on punishment coming to pass, and it wasn't always swift. Sometimes a day or two passed before Daddy would call us to him and explain what we had done and the punishment we were going to get. He didn't give passing swats on the backside; a spanking from Daddy was always prefaced by a detailed explanation of what I had done and why it was wrong. He never showed anger about it--it was never, and I mean never, mentioned again.    I well remember my very first spanking from Daddy. During recess at school, I ran into the street and then compounded the error by not coming back when the teacher called me. She paddled me for it. That evening, Daddy detailed my misdeeds: I had done something dangerous, I had not minded the teacher, I had gotten paddled at school. That alone was grevious to Daddy--one went to school to learn, not get into trouble.    There was never any physical pain from one of Daddy's spankings because he didn't spank us when angry. But spankings, discipline, from Daddy hurt terribly because he always cried. It wasn't the spanking that got to me--it was the fact that I had disappointed Daddy. It always worked, too. I never got repeat offender spankings from him.    He had been terribly abused as a child--his dad was a short, quick-tempered little man who took out his anger on his older children. The day Mama and Daddy went to get married, his dad hit him with a 2x4. He was a 21-year old man, yet his dad was still abusing him, angry because he had asked to be excused from one afternoon's plowing so he and Mama could go before a Justice of the Peace and get married. Yet Daddy never passed that abuse on to Dale and me. Matter of fact, he never spoke of it; it was Mama who told us about it after Daddy had died.    I was never afraid to go to Daddy and ask for anything. It didn't matter how many times a day I went to him, nor how many questions I asked of him, he never made me fearful to approach him with anything. If he saw me misbehaving in church, he would call me to the front pew, then smoothly resume his sermon. He never berated the two of us. He dealt with a situation and then closed the book on it, forever.    He doted on the two of us, despite Mama's protests, yet it we knew it was not a license for us to not mind Mama. All she had to do was threaten, "Do you want me to tell your Daddy when he gets home?" and we got right in a hurry. His stubby-fingered, work-scarred carpenter's hands were gentle with frequent hugs. He was consistently firm, but loving and generous. It was a favorite trick of his to get me to play the piano so Mama wouldn't make me wash Sunday dishes. Each of them knew what the other was doing--she with her token protests and Daddy with his ready defense.    We had a bedtime ritual: each night he would hug the two of us, kiss us on our cheek, and tell us, "I love you," or "I'm proud of you," or "I thank Jesus every day for you." No matter what had happened that day, Daddy always told us goodnight and that he loved us.    Daddy always made a big deal out of even our simplest accomplishments. Mama would later tell me how truly awful it really was, but according to Daddy, the first pot of coffee I ever made by myself was "wonderful" and he insisted on drinking several cups of it. Mama did all the cooking, but on the few occasions that she was sick and couldn't, Daddy fried eggs. Oh, they were good! (He used butter.)    Mama and Daddy lived to fuss at each other, yet there were limits beyond which they would not go--no name calling or slang words. If Dale and I brought something new to say home with us from school, Daddy always reminded us that our "nay was nay and our yea, yea". He didn't require "ma'am" or "sir", but he wouldn't allow "yeah" or "naw", either.    I could never imagine Daddy as he preached he had once been. He preached that God had delivered him from a drunkard's life. His stomach had burst and he was sent home to die, but God had a different plan for his life. Mama left him and his drinking behind. He sobered up and followed her to Florida. It was there he met Jesus during a tent revival. Within a year, he accepted the call of God upon his life to preach the gospel to others. He and Mama were unable to have any children. He prayed for a child and God gave him two. I sometimes wondered if Mama considered it as much of a blessing as Daddy did.    When Daddy preached, tears cascaded down his face as he spoke about "His" Jesus. To him, Jesus was up close and personal--He gave Daddy a new life. Daddy never forgot from where the Lord had brought him.    We woke nearly every morning to Daddy's bellowing rendition of "I Would Not Be Denied", as he shaved. Daddy had a true "bull-frog" voice: no tune whatsoever, but joyous in praise. He wore out Bible after Bible--he wrote in them, marking his scripture texts and favorite passages, inspired thoughts. It was from Daddy I learned that the Bible was to be used as a workbook--studied every day. He often said to me, "Sissy, wear it out. Wear it out and get a new one and wear it out. Use it up. Learn it, know it, remember it."    Early one morning in February of 1970, Daddy went to be with his Beloved Jesus. For years, Dale and I rebelled against our early teachings, but Daddy knew in Whom he had believed. He had committed the two of us to the Lord. God does not forget the effectual fervent prayers of a righteous man.    I carry Daddy's Bibles now. Best of all, Daddy's Jesus is "My Jesus", too--up close and personal.
"Daddy" Copyright © 1998 by Patricia Sikes. All Rights Reserved.
Oh, the years have gone too quickly by. I've often wondered how different my life may have been had Daddy not left so early in it. I see my children and know he would have loved and petted and pampered them shamelessly. But that's how he was with kids. He was strict, he held high standards, but he was loving and compassionate, too.    In 1977, our homeplace was totally destroyed by fire. Almost all of Mama's pictures were burned--a few, such as the one below, were rescued. It is of Dale, Mama, Daddy, and me around Christmas. Dale and I were five.    I've often told how I was never afraid to go to Daddy and ask him for anything. It didn't matter how many "no's" I got during a day's time, if there was something else I wanted, or something else I wanted to ask him, I asked without fear of anger from him. I do recall that sometimes he would kind of sigh and say, "Sissy, you ask more questions than anybody I ever knew," but his smile told me he wasn't angry.    I truly believe God allowed me to have the Daddy I did so I could better relate to Him, my Heavenly Father. I don't fear going to Him for anything, either. Big or little, ten times or a hundred times a day, I've never felt any fear about approaching the Throne of Grace in prayer.    Just as David could appear before King Saul under Jonathan's authority, wrapped in Jonathan's regal robes, Jesus has wrapped me in the robes of Salvation and the Bible tells me I can "come boldly before the Throne of Grace."    I thank You, Jesus, for my Daddy and the legacy he left me: he taught me of You.
Amazing Grace
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