My Dad...My Father

By S. awdy

This book, set in the '50s through the '70s in rural South Carolina is a collection of true stories that depict what it was like to grow up during the greatest era of the United States of America. An era when love, church, family, and patriotism were the cornerstones of our society, and common sense parenting was used to raise children. I am a product of this era, and it is an honor for me to share my collection of stories with you. These stories are about interactions and events that happened in my life and how my dad's reactions, responses, and behaviors not only taught me valuable lessons but helped to shape my life forever. Each of my dad's lessons about life correspond directly with lessons taught by my Father's Word. This book has something for people at every age and every stage of life. Everyone can learn something about themselves and about life by reading these stories. As you read My Dad, My Father, I hope you find these stories to be entertaining and enjoyable. To contact S.E.Drawdy, please feel free to send an email to: [e-mail]

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781641406178

Book preview

Confronting Fear

For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power and of love, and of a sound mind.

—2 Timothy 1:7

When I was five years old, the biggest fear of my life was an older kid named Bimmy. We had just moved to a new town where my dad had accepted a job as a junior high school science teacher. We moved into a small rental house in a great neighborhood that was full of kids for me to play with. It was several weeks into the school year, and our house just happened to be located along the common pathway of kids walking home or riding bikes home from school. Even my dad walked to and from his job as a teacher because we only had one car, which he left at home for Mom to use.

When I first encountered Bimmy (actually his real name was Jimmy, but everyone called him Bimmy, maybe because it sounds more intimidating than Jimmy), I don’t know, but I do know that he was mean, fierce, and intimidating to me. And he had earlier let me know that my new neighborhood was his domain and my days there, before having to sample his physical abuse, were numbered.

Well, I may have been young, but I certainly was not dumb. I had systematically calculated exactly how far from the house I could play and still have time to sprint to the front doorsteps, run up the steps, open the door, shut it, and securely lock it before he could reach me—that is, if and when I would see Bimmy coming toward my yard. I had already tested this several times when I’d see Bimmy coming, and I had plenty of time to make it to safety before he could get close enough to be a real threat.

One day, I was playing and was so into it that I failed to be as cautious as I needed to be. I was so into whatever I was playing that I didn’t even notice my dad as he entered the house after work. Still playing, I became so involved that I failed to keep a lookout for Bimmy. Then as I looked up, there he stood at the edge of my yard, less than fifty feet away. I saw that look of excitement on his face, and I’m sure my expression was one of panic as I quickly left the scene of my playing and began a dash toward my house. And yes, he was gaining on me. I am sure I was moving faster than I had ever run. Every muscle fiber in my five-year-old body was fully engaged and straining to gain every ounce of energy in me. I felt like a baby gazelle on the plains of Africa, being pursued by a hungry cheetah. As my left foot touched the bottom step, I could literally feel Bimmy breathing down my neck; but somehow. I hurtled forward, opened the door in midair, and fell into my house, slamming and locking the door behind me! Whew! Somehow, someway, I had beat the odds and made it safely into my house. As I sat there panting and feeling the peace that comes from a narrow escape, I heard the unexpected sound of my dad’s question, What in the world are you doing? And all I could say was, I made it! I made it! Then came a follow-up question. What are you talking about? So, I told the story of how I was almost caught by the neighborhood bully and how he had been stalking me for several weeks.

I was starting to feel proud of myself for, first of all, making it to safety and now by telling my dad, he could go out and confront Bimmy and make him leave me alone. As Dad opened the door, he saw Bimmy heading away, so he shouted at him, calling him by name to come back. I couldn’t wait for my dad, my protector, to give that Bimmy what he deserved. After all, my dad was six-foot, 190 lbs. fresh out of the air force—ha! Bimmy was in for a world of hurt—or so I thought! When Bimmy came back, he didn’t have that smirky confident look on his face; but suddenly, I heard the surprising words that came out of the mouth of my own dad! He looked at Bimmy and asked, Do you want to fight my son? Bimmy grinned and said, Yes, sir! Then my dad walked to his truck and pulled out two pairs of boxing gloves, as if this was some kind of conspiracy to get rid of me! My dad and this bully were working together to end my young life!

Bimmy had his gloves on so fast that it would make your head spin, and my dad was forcing mine over my balled-up fists as I was trying to make sure they didn’t fit. I was hoping that it might cancel the event that was about to happen—but, no such luck! In a matter of seconds, those gloves covered my hands. My fear turned into tears, and the tears made my nose run. As I wiped the now-blinding tears and runny nose from my face, I heard my dad say, Okay, boys, get on with it. The words had not had time to resonate with me before Bimmy had popped me square in the nose with a solid left-handed jab followed by a right hook to the jaw. My tears, snot, and slobber turned red instantly as that shot to the nose created a spurting of blood. The faster my heart beat, the greater the blood flow—and my heart was beating ninety miles an hour! Then suddenly, the pain and fear went away. Oh, I was hit many times, but really didn’t feel those punches as they landed. I had even started throwing a few punches of my own! I was fighting back!

Then Bimmy stopped punching. Almost as suddenly as it had started, it ended. Bimmy’s hands fell to his side. Then my loving dad looked at Bimmy and commanded him to finish it. Bimmy moved in for the kill, halfheartedly threw two more weak punches that may or may not have landed, dropped his hands again and began removing the gloves as he said, I’ve had enough. Next, the strangest thing happened. Bimmy held out his hand, and we shook hands like two businessmen over a real estate deal. Instantly, my fear of Bimmy was gone. His intimidation ceased at that very moment, and we became lifelong friends. That crippling spirit of fear had become a spirit of power, power over fear itself.

When my dad forced me to face my fear, it taught me that it is a lot less painful to face those things we fear than to allow them to cripple us. Bimmy may have kicked my butt pretty good that day, but I kicked fear by learning to face it head on.

There are a lot of Bimmys out there. Bimmys come in many forms But, if we trust God’s word and face that spirit of fear head on, we experience the spirit of power, love, and of sound mind.

What time I am afraid, I will have confidence, trust, and reliance in You. (Psalm 56: 3)

The Lord is my helper, I will not be afraid. What can man do to me? (Hebrews 13:6)

God assures us that the spirit of fear is not from God but rather a ploy of Satan to keep us from experiencing all that God has in store for our lives. We can be confident that God is always in control. His power empowers us to be victorious over fear.

Chewing Gum

So then, each of us will give an account of himself to God.

—Romans 14:12

Whoever walks in integrity walks securely, but he who makes his way crooked will be found out.

—Proverbs 10:9

An issue that often arises when talking about children is age of accountability. But when I think back to my childhood, as far back as I can remember, I always knew when I did something wrong that it was wrong! I believe we are born knowing right from wrong. And when we are born again, we definitely know right from wrong because of the Holy Spirit that lives inside us.

I remember once when I went with my dad to the grocery store and we got to the checkout, I reached out and snatched a pack of Dentyne chewing gum. I made a conscious decision at the age of five years old to take the gum without paying for it. I knew at the moment my fingers took the gum from the gum rack that I was stealing. If I had asked, my dad would have probably bought me the gum, but I didn’t even ask. I took it knowing it was the wrong thing to do. And then to make it worse, I asked Dad if I could go wait in the truck, and he said okay. I quickly went to the truck, and in an attempt to cover what I had done, I opened and stuffed each piece of gum in my mouth at the same time. I threw the wrapper evidence away before Dad got to the truck.

Moments later, Dad got to the truck, opened the door, started the engine. I tried my best to conceal what I had done, but my mouth was just too small to hide such a big wad of Dentyne gum. When Dad asked what was in my mouth, I literally had to reach my hand in my mouth and remove the half-chewed wad so that I could talk and answer his question. My answer was not what he wanted to hear. Even though I knew it was wrong, it somehow sounded a lot worse when he said, You stole it? I was expecting either a tongue-lashing or a spanking, but what he did totally surprised me. He reached in his pocket, pulled out a nickel, and told me to go back into the store, ask to speak to the manager, and tell him what I had done. Then I was to pay him the nickel, and if it cost any more than the five cents, I was to offer to volunteer to work it off.

Will you come with me, I pleaded. But, he told me I had gotten myself in this and now I had to get myself out of it. Then he added, I hope that he will not call the police and have you arrested, because I don’t have the money to get you out.

That was a long walk back into the store, and I sure was shaking and stammering when I was explaining my deed to the store manager. I remember the manager was very nice and he thanked me for being honest and turning myself in. He accepted the nickel and told me that I should never take something without paying for it first.