Like Father, Like Son

My dad turned 80 this week. Fourscore-years-old.

Born before the stock market crash of ’29. Born before WWII, before TV and long before space travel, the internet and blogs.

I have some of my dad’s physical characteristics, like a plateau on my nose that identifies me as the unmistakable offspring of George Eichler. I’m emotional, just like him, and the older I get, Cindy tells me more frequently, “You’re just like your dad.”

I hope so.

Dad is a man of integrity. He once reused a postage stamp that hadn’t been cancelled (when they were about 11 cents) and felt so guilty, he went to the Post Office, bought a stamp, and threw it away. He and Uncle Sam are all even.

Dad is a man who has a love for people. He pastored a home missions church in Idaho where he was the janitor, plumber, lawn mower, Sunday School teacher, and preacher. Why? So he could have a window into people’s lives to tell them about the God who loves them.

Dad is a man who doesn’t strive for men’s approval, but lives for God’s alone. As a teenager I thought he had made a poor career choice, I found out later he was just obeying God by leaving a larger church and moving to a small town. Other opportunities came and went, but dad stayed. . . right where God wanted him.

I hope I’m like my dad.

A man who knows the power of prayer.

A man who weeps at the presence of God.

A man who can’t talk about his family or God’s blessings without being moved to tears.

For me, there may be no greater compliment, “Like father, like son.”

Happy Birthday, Dad.

Enjoying the Journey,
David