Dad

I used to say Dad was a terrible gift giver.

Exhibit A: He once gave me placemats with big tractors on them. Now, just in case you are wondering, I didn’t grow up on a ranch and I’ve never shown an interest in farm equipment. Carolyn might have chosen a pattern that fit better with my décor, but Dad insisted—and prided himself—on picking out the Christmas gifts for my family. He enjoyed meandering through church bazaars and second-hand stores to see what caught his eye.

Another time, when the kids were little and babysitters were a luxury, he asked if I liked dates. Yes! I told him. What a great idea—he could come over, watch the kids…Paul and I could have an evening out with uninterrupted conversation! But no…he meant the fruit. That year, for Christmas, we received a giant box of dates from California.

Earlier this year, Dad called to tell me that his health was declining rapidly. This may not seem like a gift at first, but understanding the scarcity of the days I had left with my dad, I was able to make the most of this gift of time. I started driving over to Maryland weekly to visit with him and Carolyn. As I sat by his bedside, we reminisced together about his life. Through these conversations, I realized Dad wasn’t such a bad gift giver after all.

One of my earliest childhood memories of Dad is at the library. Every Saturday we would drive to Twinbrook Library and wander the aisles. Dad always loved non-fiction—history, biographies, science—while I gravitated to realistic fiction and mysteries. We both left the library with an armful of books every week, excited with our finds. No matter what my dad was reading, he always found it “very interesting.” I don’t think Dad ever read a boring book. I am thankful that he encouraged my interest in reading and instilled in me a passion for books at an early age. What an amazing gift.

If there was anything my dad found more interesting than books, it was people. Whenever Dad talked about someone—whether it was growing up with his family and childhood friends in Baltimore, his Drexel fraternity brothers, his C2 colleagues, his tenants, his HOA friends, his wife Carolyn, his children, or his grandchildren—it was always with a smile and a twinkle in his eye. “These people are golden,” he would say. I can’t recall ever hearing my dad gossip or say an unkind word about anyone, even if they were causing him frustration. I remember once a former tenant left a couch in one of Dad’s properties. When Dad went over to check out the situation, he found a squatter at the house. Someone else may have been afraid and called the police, but Dad went in and talked to the man, learned his name, and helped him. As one person said about my dad, “Your father had an amazing heart and incredible patience.  He was always kind and mild mannered with me—even in situations when I was not.” Through his actions, my father taught me to treat people with respect, to maintain a positive attitude, and to look for the good in others.

I imagine one of the reasons Dad found such joy in loving and serving others was his great faith in God. Dad had all the fruits of the spirit—love, joy, peace, patience….stubbornness…oh wait, that’s not one. Still, if Bob A. Bealle had a plan, there was no dissuading him. Someone else once said about my dad, “He’s one of the most stubborn men I’ve ever met. He’s also one of the most likeable men I’ve ever met.”

Dad wasn’t perfect—of course, our imperfections are what makes us human. Thankfully, Dad believed in the power of God’s grace and forgiveness. Dad read the Bible faithfully and strived to love others the way God loved him. The church community was an important part of Dad’s life, and he met Carolyn at a community Bible study in 1993. When I think of my dad, one verse in particular comes to mind: 1 Corinthians 13:7 says, “Love never gives up on people. It never stops trusting, never loses hope, and never quits.” I am grateful to my father for sharing God’s love with all of us.

I still have those tractor placemats after all these years. And if you’ve never tried a plump Medjool date wrapped in bacon, it’s delicious. While I’ve come to appreciate the material gifts my father chose for me, I’m also thankful for those intangible gifts Dad gave me: a passion for reading, an appreciation of the value of relationships, and faith in a loving God. I will miss him very much.