Father's Day...

"Hear, O sons, the instruction of a father,
And give attention that you may gain understanding,
For I give you sound teaching;
Do not abandon my instruction.
When I was a son to my father,
Tender and the only son in the sight of my mother,
Then he taught me and said to me,
'Let your heart hold fast my words;
Keep my commandments and live;
Acquire wisdom! Acquire understanding!
Do not forget nor turn away from the words of my mouth.'"
-- Proverbs 4:1-5

"If you walk in My ways, keeping My statutes and commandments, as your father walked, then I will prolong your days."
-- 1 Kings 3:14

"None of you can ever be proud enough of being the child of such a father who has not his equal in this world - so great, so good, so faultless. Try, all of you, to follow in his footsteps and don't be discouraged; for to be really in everything like him none of you - I am sure - will ever be. Try, therefore, to be like him in some points, and you will have acquired a great deal."
-- Victoria, Queen of England

It is an age-old ritual, especially among young boys: "My dad can beat up your dad!" Well, this is the day that we celebrate the impossible boughts of physical prowess that our fathers dominated on a daily basis. To hail the conquering heroes of the monsters that pervade the privacy of our own rooms and to remind him of the numerous battles that we've enlisted him in, which he has already won. What stronger arm, what firmer integrity, what unrelenting dedication can rival that of a father? Only that of a mother (read "Mothers Day...").

My father is a hopeless intellectual. Everything that he does makes sense and has a reason behind it. This reasonable nature could not help but transfer to his children. He rarely punished us for something without trying to teach us about what we were doing and what we should do differently. His favorite method of parenting was the lecture method. I remember the everlasting lectures that he would give about Obedience (lecture #3, key phrase: "What is so hard about doing what you're told?"), Taking Out the Trash (lecture #5, sub-topic 34, keyphrase: "You take the trash out, you put a bag in, it's simple."), and my personal favorite The True Lazy-Way (lecture #1, key phrase: "Do it right the first time, so you don't have to do it again."). Yes Dad, I had them numbered and yes, they were painful to sit through, but yes, I did learn from them. I never fail to approach a yellow light without thinking "What would it be like to try and stretch this yellow light and cause a fatal accident? Maybe I'll just stop instead of speeding up..."

One of my father's favorite things in the world is singing. This is a passion that we both share and that I think is genetic. It is not possible to have a group of Hurleys together and have a piano within 100 miles of each other without developing a good, ol' fashioned Singin'. If you don't know what a Singin' is, you're really missing out. Most small churches near my home in Texas change on Sunday night service every month so that it is nothing but music. The congregation will request hymns from the book (the little red book is Dad's favorite) and the services often run late. My dad was often requested as a music leader because everyone could tell that he enjoyed these meetings so much. My dad was even in the Singing Cadets at Texas A&M while he was in college, which is one of the best men's choruses in the nation. He is in the church choir as often as he can be, but he has not been able to sing with them regularly in a long time.

My father works almost 75 hours a week so that my mom can stay home with the kids. Both of my parents have an unshakable devotion to us kids and Dad has born the financial aspect of that decision. Despite the long hours that he works (8a - midnight), he still comes home and does what needs to be done. If the Suburban needs a new carburator, he takes care of that. If Timmy needs to be kicked in the- er, I mean motivated, then Dad does that, too. He's always there to scare away the monsters for James and 'Liz, and never fails to win the "My Dad vs. Your Dad" matches.

One might think that since I'm 21, I no longer enlist my father in boyish duels-of-honor against the fathers of the other boys... all of them at the same time. But this is not the case. Although the boughts that he fights are no longer the brawls of boyhood simplicity, I regularly pit the truer characters of men that he exemplifies against those of other men. He hasn't lost a round yet. His absurdly biased loyalty and archaic, old-fashioned faithfulness to my mother are my most paraded honors. To have a father who has kept his integrity against herculean opposition, stifling apathy, and the advance of "more modern ideals" is a badge of honor that I wear most proudly. His faith in God and inexhaustible knowledge of the Bible are some of my most prized treasures. They are a wealth to which I cling for stability and wisdom in a morally confused world. Excellence is as natural to my father as breathing. The way that he strives to excell in everything is something that - though desperately I try - I may never attain. My only regret in having him as my father is that I may never live up to his example of excellence, Godliness, faithfullness, and selfless devotion.

You're my hero, Dad.