I can remember Dad holding me on his lap as we sat on the boulder and looked out over the valley. "God's outdone Himself this time, Andy. Look at that valley. Did you ever see anything more beautiful than that? I come up here when I feel like life's given me a mountain to climb. I remind myself that on top of that mountain will be a view so beautiful that the climb will be more than worth it. You're going to have to climb some mountains in your life's journey, Andy. Trust in the Lord, and know that He has something wonderful waiting for you after you climb those mountains."
Dad was a kind, gentle, good-hearted man. He didn't talk much, but when he did, his wisdom lovingly settled down upon me like a gentle snow on a wintry evening. It covered my heart, my soul, and my memories. He was the wisest man I had ever met, and I learned more about life from him than from all my other experiences combined.
My mind wandered back to a time when this gray, frail, elderly man was young and strong. He was full of life, and his laughter filled our house. I remembered how he effortlessly picked me up and lovingly held me in his arms. It was the time our relationship was the closest it would ever be. He was my Dad, and he could do no wrong; I worshipped him. He was my hero.