Today I am remembering and honoring my father, McKinley Crisler.
When I think about my father, I immediately think about his hands. My father had very large strong hands. His hands were like the hands of a giant. In pictures, his hands are most prominent. His hands showed the full spectrum of emotions, anger, passion, love, happiness or joy etc... His hands usually reflected what he was feeling at any given moment. They were also precise and given to deliberate, best course of action. Like the hands on a clock, he knew one decision of action would impact the next. This moment is the building block of what will come in the future.
He was also a builder. The home in which we grew up in, was built by my father. It was great because the only thing he built before that was a chicken coop. Nothing in the world could stop him once he put his mind to doing something. It was an undertaking he could not afford at the time, but he did it step by step. It was one of his greatest undertakings. There were times on the weekend when he would take his two sons to be his little helpers. Every once and a while we would take a break and walk to the corner store for his favorite snack, a Pepsi and a bag of peanuts. He was determined that he would not raise his sons in the fast life of a large city, but in the environment of a small town. Always thinking ahead of what was best for his wife and family, he built our home. He was also a builder of relationships. Oh boy could he build relationships. My father's hands told the story of who he was in this life time. He had calloused hands because over the years he worked very hard with his hands. He told me he never wanted my hands to ever become callous like his hand had become. He told me I was made to be more than he was. I think back on that and wonder, how can I be more? I have a great legacy.
My father played and wrestled with us so much when my brother and I were children, even all the neighborhood took notice. There wasn't anything that he wouldn't do for his boys. He was a hands on father. As much as he was a loving man, he was also a disciplinarian. The neighbors saw the playfulness of my father as well as the strictness as my brother and I getting spanked. Yes we had our share of public spankings. He said he did it because he loved us. It was very hard to see that type of loving when you are young and growing up. I know now it was his approach to steering my brother and I in the right direction. We were his sons and we knew we were his sons. He made sure we had food on the table and clothes on our back. He considered it his job to not only to provide the materialistic things of the household, but it was his job to provide the love and guidance. And with his hands, he would guide us.
I remember when I was about ten or twelve years old, my father had to change a flat tire for my Aunt Jean. It was freezing outside. His hands became stiff and almost frozen. He kept going and would not stop until the job was complete. He didn't think it made sense to stop in the middle of a job. That was another mantra he kept.
As a pastor, he would use his hand to lay hands on the sick and infirmed. I would see healing after healing and miracle after miracle. He was given to counsel. I remember many would search him out for his counsel.
My father, he did what his hands found to do, he did. He completed his course in life. He completed it with the gift God gave him in life, strong hands.
