My father was an ordinary, blue-collar man. He never accumulated great wealth, or served as president of an organization, auxiliary or club. He never wrote a book, invented a new machine, won war medals, or did anything to make him well known or famous. When he died, there were no buildings or streets named after him, no colleges endowed by him, or long obituaries written for him. What legacy did he leave for his children? He left a legacy of a strong work ethic, a willingness to help others, a love of learning, loving support, and a testimony of Christ.When I was young, I never realized my father had a testimony, because it was hard for him to show it. I assumed he believed in the gospel because he always took us to Church. However, because he was Fay 1957 shy or whatever—I don’t know why—he never blessed, baptized, confirmed, or ordained any of us older children. He did participate in priesthood confirmations and ordinations, so I never felt deprived. That was just how it was. Looking back, I never recall a time when he gave me a father’s blessing during my early years, but maybe I never asked him for one.
I never saw my father gradually take on the mantle of noble patriarch of his family, because after I married, my husband’s work took me far from my childhood home. Even after my mother’s death, as Dad remarried and reared a second family, I was never around to see him magnify his priesthood.
My sister was more fortunate because she lived only a couple of miles from Dad. It was Dad who blessed and named her first son, who helped ordain her husband to the Melchizedek Priesthood, and who participated in all of her sons’ ordinations. He came to their Family Home Evenings and always participated. She recalls that every Christmas Dad would tell of his love of Heavenly Father.
It was 25 years later, when we moved back in my home state with children of our own, that I realized what a strong family leader my father had become. He participated in every ordinance that his many children and grandchildren received. He helped give my children and grandchildren priesthood blessings, and I received several very special father’s blessings that I will never forget. He went to the temple with each prospective missionary, and sat in the special place of honor at their weddings.
It was in May of 1998 that I first heard my father bear his testimony. He had helped name and bless a nephew’s newest baby, and afterwards he stood in the fast and testimony meeting and bore a simple, heartfelt testimony.
“So many of my family are here today, that I can’t let this opportunity pass without letting them know I have a testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel,” my father said gripping his canes to keep his balance. “I love the Savior. I know he hears and answers our prayers. I know that we have a prophet at the head of this Church.”
My brothers and sisters and I looked at each other in amazement, because although we had assumed our father had a testimony, we had never heard him bear it before. How grateful we were for that treasured testimony, because soon afterwards he suffered a massive heart attack and never had the opportunity to bear his testimony in public again.
Although my father had difficulty expressing his testimony, his life was a testament of his concern and love for others. He was always the first to help someone in need, to mow someone’s lawn, or fix someone’s car. He shared the bounty of his gardens with everyone.
My father was always intrigued by technology and progress. I recall that we had one of the first television sets in 1950 before there were many channels or shows broadcast. He never lost that enthusiasm for learning new things, and in his 80s, he embraced computers, e-mail, and scanners. I’ll never forget his words in the Intensive Care unit, “I can’t die yet. I haven’t learned how to use my scanner yet.”
My father attended all of our activities and those of our children. He sat through countless recitals, concerts, plays, and games as he cheered his posterity on, and took us out for ice cream afterwards.
Like many of his generation, he was a hard-working man, who expected us to carry our own loads. But, even as he taught us to work hard, he helped us realize how exciting work and training can be.
Although my father found it difficult to express his love when we were young, he more than made up for it telling us how much he loved us in his later years. We never left his home, but that he said, “I love you and appreciate all you’ve done for me.” You knew it wasn’t ritual or meaningless phrases, but came from his heart.
Although his faith was a quiet, unspoken kind, he demonstrated it in countless ways. I recall a time when I was living in Hawaii and had to have a biopsy of my breast. Because my mother had died of breast cancer, everyone was very worried. My father organized a special family fast, and gathered everyone together afterwards for a special family prayer. I wasn’t aware of the fast, but half a world away, I felt the effect of their father and prayers, when I had a special answer—I felt a peace enfold me that helped me face the challenges ahead. It was a real demonstration to me of my father’s and my family’s faith.Faith cannot be weighed on a mortal scale. Nor can the value of a father’s example be counted in coin or currency. The worth of a life is not always reflected in the number of scholarships endowed, or buildings bearing one’s name. It may not even be measured by the length of a man’s obituary.
Sometimes a man’s legacy is reflected only obliquely through his posterity’s faith, lives and testimonies.
