I have edited this blog post on 5/24/2012 to add the photo of Reuben; I don't know the exact date it was taken, but it is very recent.
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Today is Father's Day, and social networking sites are filled with good wishes and statements of love and gratitude to dads, some of whom have gone on ahead. I love to read those, especially when they give any example of what made Dad stand out for them. But they also make me aware of a hole in my life, and that has come into sharp relief, yesterday and today.
Several months after my parents divorced, my dad left the state we lived in, never to return. I wish I could tell you that his going was a terrible loss--and in some ways, it was, only because I was nine years old and daddies are not supposed to go away, forever. But, in some instances, it's better that they do where there has been abuse, chaos caused by addictions, mental illness, or whatever; and yes, sometimes healing takes place and some degree of reconciliation may be possible. Reconciliation was not possible, for us, and Dad's going away forever was best. But this post is not about him.
Sometimes, at least, God brings other people into the life of a child with only one parent, or with parents who have such severe problems that they can not effectively parent their children. Last year, I wrote a post for Father's Day--my first, ever--to honor Tom Clendenen. Tom was the first such man to come into my life, for a season, and I loved him very much. And having reconnected several years ago and even enjoyed a visit, early this year, I assure you that I still do. He and Eva are still really neat people who loved a little girl who felt adrift.
Other men, youth pastors and a few others, filled the need for male role models in my life. I don't mean that they taught me how to be a good man; that would be silly. But they exemplified good, Christian men who could and did invest themselves in the lives of kids and teenagers, including my life. I am ever and forever grateful to them. Don Hughes, now gone ahead, and Norm Shoemaker tried to help mold me into a reasonably healthy, contributing, Christian young woman. That was a tall order, but they were committed, and I still tear up when I remember how important they were to me and how God used them in my life.
Before I reached college, Norm brought into our youth group a godly man and student of the scriptures to speak to us for a week of special gatherings. Reuben Welch had been a pastor and had come to the church-related college in our town as an assistant professor in the Religion department. A kinder, more humble, more genuine follower of Christ Jesus I have never met. I have met a few whom I would describe in the same words, but none has surpassed him. I do not mean to imply that any of them is perfect, never feels frustrated with the demands made on him, never says anything he might not have said, with a little more thought; after all, they aren't in heaven, yet.
When I entered the church college, Reuben became my advisor, as I had listed a major in Religion. But he became so much more to me than he ever bargained for. I sought him out often for nonacademic counseling; as he was not always available when I insisted I needed to talk to him now, I learned that I could survive while waiting until Friday. I also learned that, no matter what I told him about myself, he responded in love and compassion. He was my first recognized example of the unconditional nature of God's love; that does not mean no one I'd ever known loved me unconditionally, but I hadn't recognized it.
