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Father and Son: A Family Legacy

I get to work with my dad during our church's Vacation Bible School this week, and it's spurred some thoughts on my dad, my late granddad, and our family legacy.

This has been a hectic week: it's the annual Vacation Bible School for my church, which means I have been parading around for about 200 kids, leading them in silly songs and dances and offering my public humiliation as an incentive for them to give towards a worthy cause. The VBS curriculum calls my position, "Worship Rally Leader." I prefer to think of myself as "Big Stupid Man."

(Sidebar: chances are I'll have some great pictures to post tomorrow of said public humiliation, which in this case would be the kids getting to dump chocolate syrup on me and then throw flour in my face.)

However, my role also means that I've gotten to work with my father every day so far this week. My dad is the sound engineer for the entire week, so that means he's responsible for pushing play on the DVD or moving the PowerPoint slides along while I'm speaking. It also means that he has my very life in his hands, because I'm completely reliant on the sound/projection system for making Worship Rally fun and engaging. Fortunately, my dad is really good at that stuff.

So for me, it's been a treat. Granted, we've been separated by the walls of a soundbooth, so it's not like we've been arm in arm singing Kumbaya around the campfire. But it's been nice to know that my dad has been my partner.

It's also been amazing, as a son, to give direction to my father and watch him humbly take it. Now, if you know my dad, you have no reason to expect otherwise; he is one of the most gracious and humble men you could ever hope to meet, the kind of guy that would rather serve than star (which is why he gravitated towards the sound booth).

But I also know that it can't be easy when the kid you raised starts telling you what to do and when to do it. I mean, the man literally wiped my bottom until I learned to do it myself - so it has to be a little weird for me to suddenly become the expert on something. Yet he simply listens intently, smiles, and says, "Not a problem. I'll handle it."

If you've ever worked with another human being, you know how precious those words can be.

Which makes it all the more gratifying to hear them from my father because he, of all people, would be justified in copping an attitude with me. He could reference any number of embarrassing anecdotes from my childhood, or pull some other time-tested parental card on me, but he doesn't. He just works with me, making me look good, making the few minutes a day we're partners work seamlessly.

And like any good production guy, nobody thanks him. Nobody comes up to him and says, "Great job of balancing that split track!" or "Mr. Rickey, I love the way you play DVDs."

I get all the glory, but all the credit belongs to him.

Which makes me all the more thankful, as we approach this Father's Day weekend, that I have him in my life. That I can work with him, talk to him, give him orders, ask him for advice, or just wordlessly stand in the sound booth with him. Even when we don't say anything, a lot is still spoken between us.

Which is how I know that this weekend will be tough for him. Not only are he and my mom volunteering to keep my kids so Rachel and I can celebrate our 11th wedding anniversary, but this will also be his first Father's Day without his dad. If you've followed this blog for any length of time, you know that my dad's dad, my grandfather, Harold Brooks, passed away last year on August 29th. So the past nine months have been difficult because it's brought all of the firsts after his death - Thanksgiving and Christmas were rough; so was Pop's birthday in April.

So this weekend will be challenging.

I'll most likely never see him shed a tear. At most, he'll probably mention something about Pop in passing, or when he thinks nobody's really listening. My dad is not one for working his grief out in public. I respect that.

But since I am, I just want him to know that I love him. That I am grateful to have him in my life, and in the lives of my children. I am grateful that when my kids hear the word "Poppy" they light up as if you'd just told them Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny were break dancing in the kitchen.

Most of all, I am grateful that a long-standing family tradition of a son loving his father and grandkids loving their grandfather, will continue unabated this Sunday.

It is our legacy.

It is our gift.

This post is contributed by a community member. The views expressed in this blog are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of Patch Media Corporation. Everyone is welcome to submit a post to Patch. If you'd like to post a blog, go here to get started.

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