Farewell, Dad

“When you lay me down to die, you lay me down to live.” These are words from Andrew Peterson’s song “Lay Me Down,” and they will be inscribed on my dad’s headstone.

When my mom asked me and my sister what we thought about using those lyrics for his headstone, I thought it was perfect. Not only because it is true of my dad and because he loved Andrew Peterson’s music, but because that is the kind of impact he left on me: one that doesn’t end when we leave this life.

A lot of times when I was a kid, I’d get aggravated with him because he didn’t coach or train me hard enough in sports. (In my defense, I grew up playing with a bunch of coach’s kids who made sure they were an all-star every year). In fact, he and my mom decided against me playing travel baseball, no matter how much I begged. He didn’t have the same vision I’d had for myself since I could speak. My first word was ball, and I told everyone I wanted to be a professional baseball player one day. That wasn’t just a phase.

Not to say that he didn’t practice sports with me, he did, but that was never a major concern of his for me. Now, I am thankful for that. Look how it turned out. I was diagnosed with FA at age 16, and my athletic abilities mean nothing now because they’ve disappeared.

What he taught me are things that will never be taken from me by any illness, not even death. He taught me that Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life, and that is something that will never change. The things he encouraged me in are things that will make an impact on God’s Kingdom, the way he did. He encouraged me in sharing my story of perseverance with FA, to use my voice to stand up for others (he helped me discover my love for journalism and pushed me to submit my story on accessibility in Auburn Arena that ultimately made a huge difference on Auburn’s campus), and to be faithful in my work as a FARA Ambassador.

He was so proud seeing the impact that was made by my article on accessibility at Auburn for the Plainsman and after watching my appearance on the Paul Finebaum Show. He was more proud of that than he ever was of any hit, catch or shot I ever made. That shows you what really matters to him.

Going back to Andrew Peterson, here is another story that makes me remember how proud he was of me, even if I didn’t deserve it.

Back in 2015, Andrew Peterson came to Crosspointe Church in Columbus, Georgia to do a show for a Clement Arts event that my dad put together. My dad was super busy and stressed out during these events because of how much he cared and wanted everything to go right, but he made sure to come speak to me, my mom and my sister whenever he got a second. I remember before the show that night he came to speak to me for the first time, and what he said to me surprised me a lot.

“Do you want to come backstage and meet Andrew?”

Look, as a kid I wasn’t a huge fan of Andrew Peterson or anything. Of course, as a kid you don’t appreciate such meaningful lyrics like Mr. Peterson fills his songs with, but the invite my dad gave me to meet one of the guys he really admired instilled his sense of pride in me. I remember being nervous to go up to Mr. Peterson because I didn’t want to embarrass dad. I was nothing like him and definitely not as Christlike.

I don’t know exactly why, but something about it made me feel so special. My dad wanted to introduce me to a famous person. I had never met anyone as famous as Andrew Peterson before. I knew he was proud of me, he had told me many times before, but in that moment I really felt it.

As George Strait said, “Daddies don’t just love their children every now and then, it’s a love without end, Amen.” A father’s love isn’t something that’s earned, and my dad exemplified that as good as anyone.

That kind of reminds me of someone named Jesus. Even when we don’t deserve it, we are loved by Him and He shows such a great sense of pride in us. He is willing to take on our sin and present us to God as blameless (I am not comparing AP to God, but you get the illustration).

I might never sing, play the guitar, or preach a sermon like my dad did, but I have been told he passed along some writing skills, and I will continue to use that gift the best way I can. I know it will make him proud.

I can’t wait for the day we can sing together, though.