My Father's Foundations

Dad pumped concrete for over twenty years. There was no dinner conversation he couldn't interrupt with "I had a dream last night that I was in my pump..." Often, when we were driving, Dad would point and say "I pumped those foundations over there."

In 20 years, Dad laid a lot of foundations. And being the contemplative kind of guy he is, it wouldn't surprise me at all if sometimes, standing amidst the growl of huge machines and the shouting of foremen, waiting for the next load of mud or inspecting a finished slab, Dad meditated on the concept of "foundations."

It wouldn't surprise me to know that was what he was thinking about when he came home at night - gritty, grimy, soaked with sweat, sunburned, calloused and tired - and ready to sit at the head of the table and teach his kids about politics, history, and business.

Maybe, when he dragged us out of bed before sunrise to water the garden or pull brush, he was thinking about the foundation of work ethic.

When he hammered every one of us with the golden rule, the foundation of respect.

When he prayed with us every night, the foundation of faith.

Three of us are on our own, and three are still at home. As we grow and begin to build our own lives, we can thank Dad for helping us start with a solid foundation to build on.
 
"Anyone who listens to my teaching and follows it is wise, like a person who builds a house on solid rock." -Matthew 7:24