I am not one to wallow in an emotion for long and already my journal entry is making me uncomfie. I am not over it, but I'm not a depressing kind of girl and this is depressing stuff. Baermans strike at the world with humor! Laughter is our warcry! Or something equally poetic. ENNAhoo, the funeral is this weekend and my brother from Mass. just got in a few hours ago. And what should happen?? His pregnant wife who is due May 17th has her water break almost as soon as he steps off the plane! She, of course, did not travel cross country with him.
Well, there's something I want to share with you all; my loooong-time friend, Dawn, wrote a letter for my dad. She meant to give it to him as a goodbye letter, but that never happened. It's a lovely letter with some great stories in it and it's quite humorous. I think you will enjoy it... I know I did! Plus, it shows my dad as a person and a man, not just a title.
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(Reprinted with permission)
1 Praise the LORD.
Blessed is the man who fears the LORD,
who finds great delight in his commands.
2 His children will be mighty in the land;
the generation of the upright will be blessed.
3 Wealth and riches are in his house,
and his righteousness endures forever.
4 Even in darkness light dawns for the upright,
for the gracious and compassionate and righteous man.
5 Good will come to him who is generous and lends freely,
who conducts his affairs with justice.
6 Surely he will never be shaken;
a righteous man will be remembered forever.
Psalm 112:1-6
I called you Dare. You weren't my father, but it brought comfort to me giving you a title. Secretly, I would pretend that I was part Baerman clan. I don't know how Dare was specifically chosen, however, it fit and stuck. God knows how many times I dared you to kill me with my behavior. And yet, you patiently shook your head and said under your breath, "Dawndra, Dawndra, Dawndra." Sometimes I thought I caught you praying afterwards.
I was over at your house daily, as were many of us kids, needing some Baerman nutrition. Too many of us came from rocky homes or misguided lifestyles. You brought a solid foundation for our feet and balanced it beautifully with a lot of love. I enjoyed watching you with your children, seeing the daily interaction of life, through Christ, in your home. That was never a doubt, where your strength came from, and you made it look attainable to me even.
You were quick to admit your faults and even apologize for them when needed. I will never forget a moment shared between you and your youngest daughter. I was visiting Bonnie one day, as I often did, and she was upset with you. She felt that you paid more attention to the other siblings than to her. She felt hurt over some missed games from high school and was lacking in Daddy time. We were sitting at the dining room table, Bonnelle crying, and you were listening with full attention. I knew I should have left, but I couldn't budge. It was as if my backside were glued to the chair. I NEVER saw full attention on a daughter before. The TV was off and you had your hands crossed laying gently on the table with your eyes focused on Bonnie. You let her cry to you for about five minutes before responding.
I had no idea what was about to happen next. I was spellbound. I expected you to say, "Pull it together, Bonnie, that was a couple of years ago." But you didn't. You said, "Bonnie, I am really sorry you feel that way. That was not my intention at all. I love you, and I am proud of you." More was said, of course, but what a learning experience for me! You showed me how to be humble, sincere, apologetic, loving, and forgiving with that one gesture. I felt honored to have been able to view that moment of caring within a family. It was foreign to me, but opened something in my heart.
Parenting 101 by Christ, illustrated by Dare.
Even in reprimanding, you did it with love. I have witnessed this all too many times. One occasion will never be forgotten by all involved. I'm sure it won't be forgotten by the neighbors. I'm pretty positive they heard it too. I was spending the night at your house with the girls. That was a common occurrence. Becky, Bonnie and I were up very late, being somewhat rambunctious. Mom came down a couple of times to tell us to be more quiet. We would schmooze her and get her giggling, as she headed off to bed. Finally around four in the morning you came into our room. Nostrils flaring, eyes burning through what I thought, impenetrable glasses, vocal chords clearly working correctly, you boomed, "It's four o'clock in the morning! Some of us have to work!" Blah, blah, blah, some other things were said, and then it happened. You proceeded to whip your entire arm through the air as if you were preparing to throw THE perfect pitch of the World Series, and pointed to me.
"And you, DAWNDRA!" My cow eyes popping out, the only thing of which you could see, the rest of me slinking down into the sleeping bag, now wet from fear. "You are GROUNDED!" Door slams, and only crickets could be heard for a full minute. I know this, because I counted. Shortly after I hit sixty, Bonnie starts to giggle and says, "Dawndra, you got grounded!" Becky, being the great friend she is, finished with a gut laugh. "Wow, Dare was mad," she chided. You think? My first question, why the heck was I the only one grounded? I still refer to that night as Death by Dare. It's in my memoirs.
The following day I was patently devastated, being grounded was tough. You finally arrived home from work and I approached you with a sinking heart and teary eyes. We sat on the couch and I apologized to you and started crying. I thought you hated me. You put your arm around me and said that you forgave me, and that you still loved me but…I was still grounded. I had to go home at ten o'clock that night. The restriction only lasted a couple of months, but we joked about it forever. Every now and then, someone would look at his or her watch and say, "Dawndra, it's close to ten, shouldn't you be getting home?"
Time moved on and so did we. At times, we saw very little of each other, but the love never waned and the adoration of you only grew. Before we knew it, you were at my wedding, my children's baptisms, at which the only ones qualified to be the Godparents were you and Elly, and of course some holidays. A year ago I received a devastating phone call from Becky explaining to me that we have limited time left with you. It was difficult to take in, you were a giant to me. My family and I were blessed enough to have spent some wonderful time with you since that fateful day and for that I am so thankful and grateful. About a week before you died, I came over to help out with some cleaning. While I was vacuuming next to your chair, you said to me, "Dawndra, you are doing such a great job, I may have to lift your curfew!" I then said, "That's great, Dare! Can I get that in writing?" You chuckled and replied, "Let's not get carried away."
I was working on this letter for you, Dare, before you died. Having a difficult time, I decided to go to scripture for some help. That is when I came across Psalm 112:1-6. Not only did I find it a fitting tribute to you, but a comfort to me knowing that such a great man of God is finally home with his Father. Just as Paul wrote in 2Timothy 4:7, I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, and I have remained faithful.
So have you, Dare, and in doing so, you bore an abundant amount of fruit! Thank you for giving me the opportunity to be a Baerman at heart and to be your friend. I will always love and admire you, My Dare. I'll see you in heaven…
Dawndra P.