Randy Suits

Shaving My Dad – My Earthly Hero

In memory of my earthly father, who our heavenly father gave to me in wisdom, love, and mercy,

Dearest Ewa, the woman with whom I can cry in emotionally filled moments without shame,
He was just a simple farm boy in a small economically depressed county, but he had dreams to rise above the poverty of his youth. This hopeful young man was my dad (father). His father was the seventh son of a farmer who, like many in the depression of 1929 through 1942, lost his home and land. They lived as tenants on land they once owned and eeked out a living in the hard economic times. Dad walked two miles each day to school. He fed and milked the cows, tended the hogs, fetched eggs, learned to work in the garden and labored in the fields. But, unlike most of the farm boys who were pulled out of school to work in spring planting and fall harvest, my grandfather insisted that he go to school and pursue his education. The hard work of the farm convinced my dad that a better life was achievable in the industries of his day. Those jobs required an education. When he was seventeen, Dad met my mother, Freda, and they fell deeply in love. They married in August 1942 and moved to Detroit, where dad became a tool and die maker. It was war time and American industry was ramped up to maximum capacity building armaments, ammunition and war related products for the Allies in a battle for freedom against the Axis Powers. They had six children and I was the firstborn. Though dad worked long hours, six days a week, he always took time to teach, counsel and play with his children. He would often come to our bed at night and tell us stories about our family. His grandmother was a Shawnee Indian and we would beg him to tell us stories that our native American ancestors told their children. We especially liked the story about the little boy and his 4 dogs Ringwood, Seamster, Yellow Dog and Jubilee and their encounter with a wicked old witch.  Of course they escaped with their lives. We never tired of listening to Dad tell the story (but dad tired of retelling it) but he would patiently retell it at our insistence. As a youth, dad was our rock. We believed as children that he could do anything. He was the smartest, strongest and best dad in the world. There was no problem that dad could not solve. He was a good dad and we loved him. He was not perfect, but he was best suited to our childhood wants, needs and aspirations. As time passed my dad, my hero, aged and suffered the ravages of time. He gradually became physically feeble and mom, his one true love, was his caregiver. She would feed him, dress him, bathe him and shave him daily. (Her undying devotion and faithfulness to her life mate was truly an earthly manifestation of the love of a Holy Loving God). She never complained during her years of servitude. We see in this that love literally causes us to stand with our true love in servitude to all their needs. She attended to Dad, asking no help. Occasionally, she would ask her children to help but she preferred to do it herself. Do you remember the day when we were going to a restaurant so that mom would not have to cook for us? It was one of those few times that mom was running behind. She asked me to shave dad while she dressed herself.  I assisted dad into the bathroom as he shuffled his feet slowly (a result of multiple strokes). I remember putting the shaving lather on my left hand and looking into the eyes of my father, pausing briefly before gently applying it to his face and whiskers. In a moment that seemed an eternity, I looked into his eyes and hesitated. I witnessed such humility in his demeanor, such tenderness in his eyes and such surrender to his need of the moment that I could not proceed for a brief time. How does a man shave his dad? How does a man shave his earthly hero? How does a man love his earthly father? He does it by humbly submitting to his father in the same manner that his father submits to him. Dad submitted to me in trust. He knew he could trust me. My task was to be worthy of his great trust in his moment of need. As we stood before the bathroom mirror, a tear ran down dads cheek and I perceived in his eyes that he was saying, “It’s O. K. son. You can shave me.” Even then, though I was a mature man, I needed his approval and permission. He was my dad. He is always my hero. Though his condition caused my father to slump over when he stood, we (my dad and I) got him shaved and ready to appear in public with his wife and children. (Mother always insisted that we looked our best when we went out.) My Kochana, this is as close as I will come to shaving God. Knowing God as we know him, God cared so much for my father that he shaved him that morning. God used my hands to shave my dad. God used your hands, my Ewa, to attend to the needs of your father when he was stricken with multiple strokes. He uses our hands as we tend to the needs of each other. Jesus said, “In so much as you have done it to the least of these (the needy) you have done it to me.” God also uses my hands to attend to your needs my Kochana. And He uses your hands to attend to my needs . May we always be receptive to Gods need to express himself through us. We are his property. He loves us. He is a heavenly Father who attends to even the little things we require on earth and gives us strength, understanding and tenderness to do those tasks of great reward like shaving my dad – my earthly hero.

Your delicate hands are comfort to me in all my needs, Kochany