Fresno and Phil

The Fresno ZOE Conference was a great event. The College Church of Christ has become a special place of rest, friendship, and family for me these last two years.

I returned from Fresno late Sunday night (Monday morning) . . . well . . . late for me . . . 3 a.m. As I was driving from the airport home, I thought, there’s one person I can call right now that would not shoot me: my dad.

For the last twenty-plus years, my dad has worked the midnight shift at Children’s Hospital as a respiratory therapist. In fact, when I was younger, he worked two jobs—always the midnight shift.

I have many friends who lament that “my dad never made time for me” or “my dad was great with everyone except his own family.” I empathize with these people . . . but I cannot relate.

My father was always around. He was always there. Always present. Always willing to play catch, go for a jog, watch hoops, play one-on-one.

From seventh to twelfth grade he (nor my mom) never missed one sporting/church event. We played football, baseball, soccer, basketball and tennis and he was there for every single game. Of course, the post-game “Dad-nalysis” was part of the experience, but I’d gladly take that than a dad who’s out of town on business, the dad who’s on the golf-course five days a week with clients and no time for his family. My father did not spend his time thinking about his own career, education, or “dreams”—he was fully invested in developing his family.

I can honestly say my dad was one of my closest friends in High School. I was never embarrassed to have him drop me off some where. Never ashamed to hang out with him at the movies or the mall.

He used to write me little notes before big games: “You can do it.” “I believe in you.” “You the man.” Little pieces of paper I still have in a box in my basement. He’ll never know how much those little pieces of paper meant. I get emotional just thinking about our game day breakfasts at a local joint, or our pre-game meal at Subway.

Anyways . . .

I called my dad on the drive from the airport Monday morning. Sure enough, at 2:54 a.m. he answered as he always does, “Respiratory--Phil Graves.” We talked about my trip, grad school, his upcoming adventure to Alaska (he’s going to camp by himself in the wilderness for two weeks).

To all the fathers out there: You don’t know what it means when a son knows he can call you at any hour of the day, knowing that for one brief moment, the person on the other end of the phone is your biggest fan and confidant.

To all the sons out there: You don’t know what it means when a dad knows that his son loves him so much, that the person he wants to talk to when he’s going on four hours sleep is…well…his dad.

My biggest fear in life is that I won’t be half the dad my father was. I am so engrossed in my education, plans, dreams, work, vocation, and opportunities . . . I pray I will honor Phil by being the encourager and man he was/is in my life.