I'm Sure I'm Partial, But I Think He's the Best Dad Ever

I wrote a blog post about my Mom for Mother's Day and you can read that here if you missed it.  Obviously, I would never write a post about my mother and then not write one about my father.  Just like they don't play favorites with my brother and me, I can't play favorites with them.  Last fall I wrote a post about my brother where I mentioned that my Dad used to ask me when I was a child if I could only choose one person to say hello to if I was on television, "Who would I choose?"  My answer is in the blog post about my brother.

I thought in this post, since I didn't mention it in my post about my Mom, I would tell their story of how they got together.  I'm sure my Mom will leave a comment and clear up any details that I missed or got turned around.  My parents met in Bible college at Southwestern in Waxahachie, Texas but my Dad had lived a lot more of life than my Mom when they met.  My Mom was 18 and had actually been out of high school for a year before going to college, but my Dad was 26 and had spent four years in the Navy, then a couple years working as a draftsman before God changed the direction of his life.  He was an excellent draftsman and had worked on drawings of fighter planes and was being considered for a lucrative career in that line of work.  Prior to deciding to go to Bible school he had been offered a full-ride scholarship to Washington University in St. Louis.  (He grew up in East St. Louis and was working in downtown St. Louis at the time).  He told his boss "thanks, but no thanks" and left to pursue the call of God on his life.

Here's my Dad all buttoned up in a suit and tie at Southwestern.  Is that my brother, or what???

Here's a picture of my Dad in the Navy.  Is he not soooooo handsome?  No wonder my Mom set her eyes on him.

Back to the story of how they met....  So, they were both at Southwestern and my Dad was known far and wide on campus.  He was head of the Missions Club or something like that, which was apparently an enviable position for other students.  The story goes like this.  My Mom was a young, blond, freshman cheerleader and she was sitting on a bench with her friend.  Who should come walking by but my Dad.  My Mom said to her friend, "You see that guy?  I'm going to marry him."  Her friend basically blew her off and said "No way, Paughnee.  That's Bob Bornert.  He's engaged to a girl at home."  (Engaged he was, to a girl with the nickname, "Babe," no less).  My Mom told her friend that engaged or not, she knew she was going to marry him.  I'm not sure of all the details at that point, but I believe my Mom decided she would start going to the Missions Club meetings and letting my Dad know she was interested.  He ended up breaking things off with "Babe"--who's name was really Velma.  (Wouldn't you go by "Babe" if your name was Velma?  Can't blame the poor girl).

So began their courtship and a boy from East St. Louis married a girl from south Louisiana.  My Dad used to tease his friends and tell them that his future mother-in-law wrestled alligators.  If you knew my grandmother you knew that she had just the sort of daring, tenacious personality who might actually give it a try.  She didn't, just in case I've led you to believe that she did.

One summer  when they were dating but apart my Dad sent my Mom this picture:

I guess he wanted to make sure she knew that he wasn't all "suit and tie."  Ha ha.  He might not be too happy with me for including this picture because I thinks he wants other people to think that he is all "suit and tie."  He isn't.  He may have been a preacher for the last 50 years but he can also design houses, build houses, plant gardens, write poetry, draw, play the piano if I beeeeeegggggg him to do so, and a host of other things.  He's brilliant but doesn't want you to know it.  We'll keep your secret, Dad.

My parents got married on September 9, 1961.  Here are a couple more pics of them from college:


Don't you love how my Mom was gazing adoringly at my Dad and how he has the biggest grin on his face.  So in love, and they still are after over 50 years.

I can see myself in both of my parents, but I really see my brother and my oldest son, Jac, in my Dad.

You might wonder how I ended up so blonde with my Dad and his dark hair.  His eyes are bright blue and my three boys and I all got my Dad's blue eyes.  All of my Dad's siblings are dark-headed with darker coloring as are most of their children.  But, when my grandmother was pregnant with my Dad his grandmother prophesied that the baby was going to be born blonde (which would be highly unusual in their family) and he was going to grow up to be a preacher.  He was and he did.  He was blonde until he was about two years old.  My brother was blonde when he was young, but his hair grew darker before most of it grew out of his head.  :)  I often felt a little odd with both sides of my family because most of the cousins on my Mom's side aren't blonde and fair either.  I might think that I was adopted if I wasn't an exact duplicate of my mother.

Let me tell you something I've often told my parents.  It is difficult being a combination of the two of them, not in the way of looks, but in the thought process and personality.  Opposites definitely attract because my parents couldn't be more different and they couldn't possibly be more in love--even after 50 years.  My Mom is spontaneous and my dad is cautious and thrives on security.  I am both of those.  My Dad is very analytical while my Mom is more emotional.  I am both of those, with a leaning more to the side of the analytical.  One of the things I got from both of them that I'm passing on to my children is the most important thing of all.  A love for Jesus that surpasses anything else in our lives.

As a child I had a difficult time with the fact that my parents were older than my friends' parents.  It seems kind of silly now because so many people have babies later in life, but my Dad was 40 years old when I was born.  That's just the way it happened which is a story for another day.  Now I realize what a gift it was to have a father with such wisdom and so much insight to share.  I didn't always appreciate it when I was growing up but I certainly do now.  My Dad is the person I know who most has the gift of thinking before you speak.  My brother runs a close second, but I honestly don't recall a hurtful word ever coming out of my Dad's mouth about anyone.  He and my Mom have been through some painful times in ministry but they protected my brother and me and never spoke ill of any situation.  My Dad is very patient.  I can be telling him something important and he can be wondering what it is and when I'm going to get to the big announcement/point of my story, but he never interrupts.  He never tells me to get to the point or "Headlines only, please."  He gives great advice, but only when solicited.  I can only remember him being mad at me four times in my life.  Once, when his mother died and I didn't want to go back in the funeral home to select a plant to take home.  Second, when I stayed out after a piano lesson to go to Taco Bell with a guy right after I got my driver's license.  (He grounded me for three weeknights for that one.  I know, he was really tough on me).  Third, when I ran up an $80.00 long distance phone bill one summer when Lindy was in California right after we started dating.  (This was before cell phones and free long distance).  Fourth, when I bought a new car the fall after I graduated from college when he was traveling and wasn't involved in the process.  He didn't think that his 22-year-old daughter could get the best deal by herself on a new car and he wanted to help me buy it.  I was living in Tulsa at the time.  He called the dealership on Monday and talked them down a few hundred more dollars so I think he felt a little better about it after that.  That's it...four times that I can recall in my entire life that my Dad has been mad at me about something.  I doesn't count little things from childhood, but I don't even remember him getting upset with me very often then.  I know I got some spankings, but usually just a cross look did the trick with me.

My Dad will be 80 years old in November and we are heading to the beach in a couple weeks to spend a week in a beach house.  He'll be driving there and enjoying spending time with his family.  He'll probably go deep sea fishing and take some books to read and enjoy just seeing my Mom have the time of her life because she's the beach person, as am I.  One other thing I got from both of them is a love of reading.  Jac is starting to catch the reading bug too and I'm thrilled about that.

This post would be as long as a book if I tried to explain all the wonderful things about my Dad.  He really is amazing.  He's an example of a changed life, the power of prayer and faith in God, and an enduring example of love, tenderness, and compassion.  I couldn't be more proud to be his daughter and I wouldn't trade him for all the world.

Love you, Dad.  You've always been my hero and it was quite a task to find a husband who would begin to measure up to everything you are and always have been.  I think I did a pretty good job and I know you would agree.

Happy Father's Day (Your card's in the mail.  You know some things never change).  :)