Dad's Prayer

I thought I knew my father well: his devotion to family, his solid faith. A slip of paper in a forgotten Bible revealed more

- RICK HAMLIN

We were cleaning out Mom’s house in Pasadena in the weeks after her death. Dad had died nine years earlier, so I pretty much figured I had gone through the grieving process, understanding who he had been and accepting the loss.

Then I discovered a Bible on a bookshelf. Not one that Mom ever used, not particularly dog-eared either. Just a book on a shelf, one of many. Everybody had claimed their favorites, and my three siblings and I were packing up the rest to give to the library for their annual fundraiser. None of us really needed another Bible.

Before putting it in the giveaway box, I dusted it off, flipping idly through the unmarked pages. It was a newish edition, published in the 1990s, a fine leather cover. Not signed. No EX LIBRIS bookplate. Not anyone’s beloved copy.

Then out slipped a scrap of yellow lined paper with writing on it. I recognized the handwriting immediately. Dad’s. Everything in uppercase letters, the sort of thing I knew so well from the clippings he would often send with a Post-it note: “Thought you’d enjoy this” or “Reminded me of you” or “Got a chuckle out of this” and almost always ending with his frequent refrain to all four of us kids: “I’m proud of you! Love ya.”

Dad was proud of us. Nice to remember that right now. I wondered if this note were some other upbeat message. But, no, the words were addressed to the divine. “Father God,” it began. “As you know, I rejoice in wife, children, grandchildren, close friends, colleagues, companions and the warm love of Jesus….”