Daddy Remembered

Eleven years ago we said goodbye to Dad.


Frank Peter Nickel
January 11, 1917-November 22, 2002

The steps of a man are established by the Lord; and He delights in his way. When he falls, he shall not be hurled headlong because the Lord is the One who holds his hand. I have been young, and now I am old; yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken, or his descendants begging bread. All day long he is gracious and lends; and his descendants are a blessing.

Psalm 37:23-26

All my life, I remember Dad

WORKING

With huge, strong, worn, precise, scarred, loving hands:

Cutting hair, removing ticks and splinters for all his kids;

Repairing the vehicles: from flat tires and dents to an entire engine;

Building on the house, painting, re-shingling, connecting to city sewer;

Mowing the lawn, chopping wood, stoking the fire;

Planting, cultivating, harvesting, canning, cutting, drying;

Driving, setting up and taking down the P.A. equipment, driving again;

Cleaning the church, upholstering the pews, plowing the snow.

Always laboring, never idle.

With a quick, thorough, serious, practical mind:

Taking care of business;

Bargain hunting, making do, inventing;

Finding the hearse, designing the camper;

Arranging tour itineraries, phoning, navigating;

Supervising the family assembly line for record jackets;

Using the wringer washer to press the labels onto the jacket sleeves;

Always thinking, never bored.

With a heart for ministry:

Singing, playing piano, guitar and accordion;

Finding and teaching songs, recording albums, duplicating tapes;

Preparing messages, preaching sermons, counseling the needy;

Conducting funerals and weddings, visiting nursing homes;

Writing poems, hymns and spiritual songs;

Always parenting; convinced of his accountability before God

For his children’s lives and conduct.

All my life, I remember Dad

PRAYING

During family devotions, before meals, before services;

During storms, in the midst of tragedy, in praise;

In public or private; while wrestling through decisions;

Kneeling by the bed, the chair or the sofa;

Sitting at his desk, in the car or the front pew at church;

Hand on his forehead, massaging a furrowed brow;

With Mom or alone; with the family or the congregation;

Drifting off to sleep, while exhaling “Oh, Lord!”

Praying for the family, the church, the government.

Praying for me.

All my life, I remember Dad

GIVING

To neighbors: a helping hand;

To shut-ins: music and a word of hope;

To strangers: a meal, a bed, a lift, a tract or a few bucks;

To friends & family: time and effort to repair, repaint, remove or re-arrange anything;

To me: money for college and for the contacts I ordered but couldn’t afford AND

A time when he said I should make a particular decision on my own.

To Mom: eight children and a 17-year North American tour.

To his descendants: a Godly example and a heritage of faith.

I used to think I couldn’t remember a lot about my childhood,

the memories all blurred together.

But when I take the time to stop and think,

I remember my Dad.

Written for Frank P. Nickel

by Joyce (Nickel) Harback

Christmas 1995