My Dad

My Dad - Photo by Bec

My dad turned 50 on Saturday – Anzac Day. There was a pretty big party, and lots of friends and family which was a bit funny because my dad hasn’t always been a party person. But for the most part he was pretty much in his element. As a bit of a last-minute decision mum and each of us kids ended up giving speeches, but I didn’t say really manage to say what I wanted to say.

I’ve always wanted, at least in some way, to be like my dad. As a kid I wanted to be a leg spinner, and a ruckman, because Dad was a leg spinner and a ruckman. The proudest I can remember being as a little kid was one time when I was at Dad’s cricket training, fetching the balls that got slogged in the nets, and throwing them back. A couple of the guys started calling me “Little Matho”, and despite the fact that I couldn’t have been much older than about 5 or 6, I can still remember the pride in being associated so closely with my dad.

One of the things that I most admire about my dad is his ability to see a need, and to instinctively act on it. All through life at church, Dad has been the man who got in and did things because he saw that they needed doing. Eventually it got to the point that they needed to start paying him for that, and it’s been fascinating to see how he’s adapted to being in a paid ministry position. In lots of ways the last person to see that his job had quickly become much broader than “administrator” was Dad himself. He leads quietly, but firmly.

Where I always feel that I’m trying to carefully craft the image that other people have of me in their minds, Dad rarely corrects people’s assumptions about him. There would be more than ten occasions where people would tell me  “I used to think blah blah blah about your dad, but since I got to know him it turns out blah blah.” Dad will never have a negative conversation about someone he respects: he’ll just sit there dis-engaged until you change the subject. His loyalty to the people he respects borders on being legendary. If Dad respects someone, and disagrees with you, he’ll swallow it or bring it up one on one. It’s a beautiful thing.

But obviously my dad is more than just a man I can admire from a distance. Through all my life, my dad has been a constant encouragement. Whether it was out on the football ground, or with schoolwork, or with just talking about my job, Dad’s always been interested in seeing me do the best I can. Not that he’s been perfect, but I have been so incredibly lucky to have a Dad who’s as proud of me as he is.

This has turned into much more of a puff piece than I meant. But I’m immensely proud to be Ron’s son.