Minding Your Spiritual Business

The Image of my Father

The picture is black and white, it is thick and weathered, it is faded and spotty, but it is my family. The quality of the pictures in the late 1800's was not well but there are certain subtleties that transcend the 100+ years since it was taken. Similar to most pictures of that age my great-grandfather and mother and their five kids tried to keep a stern face. They had to hold that face for a long period while the light imbedded the silver with their image. There is a corny background barely discernable, behind them and dark curtains attempt to give the scene a homey kind of look. The mother and father are seated with the kids surrounding them and there is a small table between them that they can place their arm on and on the table are a few books. I can hear the photographer lining them up: "Jan and Maria take a seat, Jan on the left, kids ... KIDS! Tallest in back, next, what was your name again? Herman? Herman, in the middle and you two on the outside. Stand tall now..." You have heard it dozens of times in formal pictures at weddings, churches and family reunions. You or your parents probably have similar pictures in your life.

I wonder, sometimes, about the life of my great-grandfather as I look into his face. I see the slightest hint of a smile along with his intense eyes and graying hair. His left arm is using the table as an arm rest and his left hand reminds me of my own father's and mine with thick "farmer" fingers. What is most telling is his right hand which rests on his knee but it held lightly by his youngest daughter standing next to him. Dina looks about 9 or 10 years-old and is nestled into her father's shoulder and is gently holding on to his forefinger with her small hand.

He died in 1904; my father was born in 1921 so he didn't have a chance to know his grandfather. Yet, as I look into the picture I see my family. My young grandfather in the picture looks strikingly like one of my brothers at that age. I see the same V-shape in the foreheads of my nephews as their hair is close to shaved off. I see the image of my fathers passed from generation to generation, we are connected by blood and by spirit, and we are family.

That image is a powerful thing, but we all have it, we are all family in our Father's image.