Two words that come too late

Missed it.

For 50-plus years it had been right there in front of me. And come to find out, I had missed it. Too busy to see. To busy with “me.” Missed it like I’d skipped school on the day they had taught the greatest lesson that could ever be learned. Missed it.

To explain, let me hit rewind.

I was texting back and forth with a friend last week when out of the blue he sends this: “I really admire you for chasing your dream (that of a “pastor” … although truth be told it was God who said: “Tag. You’re it”). I used to tell my kids that if you can dream it, you can do it.”

And the response going back the other way – out of regret I suppose for not chasing those dreams earlier in life – started out like this: “I wish someone had told me that growing up.” And then, “My dad was never one to …” That’s when my fingers froze mid-form. Wouldn’t move. Time stopped in my mind, which was at that moment stunned into the starkest of revelations! I tell you the truth it was like God had slapped me on the back of the head. And rightly so! Idiot! Moron! (That was me “thinking,” not God “saying” … I hope.)

He did say loud and clear, however: “Missed it”.

Tears even now beginning to well up, He took me on a journey. A journey that began with … Dad.

Dad, who had fought off polio when he was 8. Dad. Who was left with one arm half the size of normal as a result. Dad, who had had to fight off snicker after snicker, insult after insult, bully after bully long before the world rallied to the cause.

Dad. Dad who had freely, and with no regrets that I could tell, given his life for my mom. She, the sufferer of a brain hemorrhage (around age 30, I believe), could/would – at no fault of her own (the drugs, the shock treatments, the failed operations that followed) – sometimes turned from angel to demon in mid-sentence. Yet whichever persona, his response to her never changed: That of a saint.

Only on rare occasion did he enjoy staying out all night fishing (love of his life No. 2). Always he paid for it with a tongue-lashing. (She wasn’t aware of much, but she could smell a “fishy” story a mile off.) No chance to see a Braves games – love No 3 or attend a NASCAR race – No. 4.

Dad. Dad, who had left a box full of certificates from Robins Air Force Base. “10 years of dedicated service (in the field of electronics)” … “20 years …” “… 30 years …” “… 40 years”!

Dad, who had raised three boys. Three boys who fought like Tasmanian devils. (Somewhere there’s a dented Campbell’s soup can and a dozen or so broken toys that bear proof. “I” – the youngest and weakest of the bunch – preferred throwing and running.) And yet even until manhood he could put us down faster than David smiting Goliath. One handed or not, he could be the most terrifying man in the world when the occasion called for it. And sometimes when it didn’t. (Look up “road rage” in the dictionary and don’t be surprised to see his name listed.)

Dad. Master auto mechanic. He smoked. He drank … “generic”-cola that is (he was cheap and proud of it … “a penny saved is a penny earned”). He cursed. He found Jesus – in the last years of his life.

Dad. He was inspiration! He was courage! He was strength! He was “living” inspiration! He was “living” courage. He was “living” strength! Dummy, me! How could I have missed that! Truth is he never needed to talk about it at all! He was it!

To the friend I texted: “You are a great dad for telling your kids to chase their dreams. I can relate. My dad was a great dad, too!” …

To the many out there who are just like him, I say: Although I somehow, incredulously missed it in him, God has granted me His favor, His grace, His blessing, in not missing it in you!

Thank you from the bottom of my heart that you truly are inspiration to me and to countless others! You truly are courage! You truly are strength! And a thousand times more than that!

To the rest: It is my prayer that if you have a loved one, know a loved one, have a friend, an enemy – whatever – in this same vein that you will this day tell them how much they inspire, encourage and strengthen you.

It is my prayer that you will tell them tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that … infinity.

There are two words you simply cannot afford to say when it’s too late.

Missed it.

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