My dad had a long fuse. But, boy howdy, when that fuse reached detonation, his temper blew big-time.

I remember he kicked the old-fashioned ice cream bucket once, spilling the contents, though I don’t remember why. He must have regretted that kick though. He immediately drove to the store to get the ingredients to make a new batch.

We were off-and-on church-goers until I was in my early teens. Then my parents became involved in starting a new church. Sunday mornings, Sunday nights, Wednesday nights, VBS, revivals—we were there!

And overnight, my dad’s long fuse got so long nothing could detonate it again. To our church family, and to us, he was one of the sweetest, gentlest, and most kind-hearted men you could ever hope to know.

When he died of brain cancer, he requested his body be donated for medical research. We had a funeral, but several months passed before we could bury his remains. This time at the cemetery was only for us—Mom, my siblings and me, and our spouses and children. I’m the oldest, so Mom asked me to give a devotional. 

I prayed and prayed over what to say. Then God led me to 1 Kings 19. While Elijah stands on the mountain, a mighty wind passes by. Then an earthquake and then a fire. But God was in none of these. He was in the whisper.

My dad was not a mighty man nor a powerful one. He spent most of his life as a farmer and a fixer of things. But he deeply loved our mom, and he deeply loved us. He was the whisper who encouraged and applauded and laughed and cared.

From the time my faith became more about a personal relationship with Jesus and less of “this is what we do,” I’ve embraced God as my Father. I know with every bit of my being that He loves me with a steadfast love, that He whispers to my spirit, and that I can trust Him with the desires of my heart.

That doesn’t mean my life has been perfect—far from it. And yet my Father’s still, small voice reassures me that I can smile at the future because I’m spending eternity with Him (Proverbs 31:25).

And I’ll get to spend more time with my daddy then, too. Maybe, just maybe, we can make a batch of homemade ice cream.