I scared God & Looked What Happened!

June 1994

13 May 2016

I scared God.  At least according to my friend Luis.  22 years ago, I hit my knees on the floor of my Phoenix apartment and told God, I got it.  If it was just Him and me for the rest of my life, that would be enough for me.  Now I was honest mind you.  I am fully aware that God is omniscient.  So no use holding anything back.  I was quick to add that it was not the desire of my heart, but if if that is what he wanted, that would be enough for me.  I tried on my own to find someone on this earth to love me.  I used to say I was a “Loser Magnet”, until I realized that I was the one doing the choosing.(With the exception of one extraordinary man who led me to a small church that led me to Christ)  A dear friend of mine was in an impossible situation at one time and couldn’t make anyone happy.  His take away:  “Everyone can’t be wrong. It must be him.”  Another dear friend had countless heartbreaks, only to be told that she was the common denominator in all of the breakups.  OUCH!  Early in May 1994 I sat on my bed after a particularly devastating attempt to fill that hole in my heart, and I realized I was thecommon denominator, it was ME.  I had forgotten something when I gave my heart to God 3 years before….ONLY HE CAN FILL THAT HOLE, because it is a God-shaped whole.  That’s when I got out of bed and hit my knees and prayed.  That’s the part that Luis says scared God, the thought of it just being Him and me scared Him enough to move in a big way on Friday May 13th 1994.

It was the beginning of the Western Conference Championship between the Phoenix Suns and the Houston Rockets.  We were producing our newscasts from the AmericaWest Arena.  My  friend and boss Abbie was expecting her first child and not feeling her best and didn’t warm to the thought of running around in 100 degree plus temperatures.  So she asked me to produce.  Just before the 5pm show, armed with scripts and notes, I entered the arena filled with a mob of media. Music blaring.  The Suns Cheerleaders practicing their dance routine. Behind them, the team mascot, a gorilla-slammed dunking baskets from a mini tramp.  And then there was SILENCE.  Nothing, but a clear voice saying, “There’s the man you are going to spend the rest of your life with”.  No, not the gorilla.  Just behind him, next to my team, stood a man I had never seen before, not Phoenix media.  Sound resumed.  I handed over scripts.  Went out to the satellite, white as a ghost.  The engineer asked if I was alright.  Of course I said I was.  Who would believe that story?

Before the 6pm, I went in with scripts.   No voices.  Just peace.  After the 6pm, I went in to say “Good-bye and good job” to the crew.  And then Danny Harnden from KVOA in Tucson introduced himself.  My immediate reaction was to say I wasn’t Abbie, as my credentials said.  I introduced myself and to my surprise, he called me by my nickname, “Sam”.  It didn’t register until later.  He had been asking my crew about me.  They had told him to forget about me because I was a christian.  It was meant to repel but had the opposite effect.  Danny claims to have received a “word” that night as well.  BONGO.  That’s name brand of the jeans I was wearing and the leather tag was on the back pocket.  Not as spiritual, a little more worldly.  But it’s his story,

We saw each other again for the next home game.  But the Suns were losing the series.  So Danny loaned me a VHS tape of a song called In Christ Alone and how it helped Frank Reich lead the Buffalo Bills from a 32 point deficit to win a NFL Playoff game.  It remains the biggest comeback in NFL history(Young people, a VHS tape is a Video Home System tape that was rectangular in shape that recorded and played back videos before DVDs) Back to our story,  if the Suns lost the Series, I would have the tape and a way to see him again.

The Suns did lose.  We like to say we won.  I returned the tape two weeks later on our first date Memorial Day weekend.  6 weeks later we were engaged.  We we married within 6 months.  The theme of our wedding:  In Christ Alone.  In that brief bit of time, God caused us both to step out of ourselves and not act like we normally would.  I wasn’t nsecure.  Danny wasn’t afraid of commitment.  It was all a God Thing.The 

You would think I would never forget a watershed moment like that.  You would think.  But here we are at another Friday, May 13th and I have forgotten my Miracle Moment.  I am like the Israelites in the movie “The Ten  Commandments”.  God parted the Red Sea and delivered them from their Egyptian captors.  Their Miracle Moment.  Then they found themselves wandering around the desert and forgot about it while Moses was on the mountain getting the Ten Commandments zapped onto the tablets.  Great special effects.  Anyway, the crowd turns ugly and wants out of the desert.  Apparently the God who parted water doesn’t do miracles in parched, barren land, so they demand a new one…a golden calf.  There’s a point coming. Stand-by.  For a number of years now, I’ve forgotten my “Miracle Moment”.  But I haven’t been like the ugly crowd demanding a new god, I’ve been the golden calf-which you might remember-strongly resembled a bull.  I can be plenty bull headed. I’ve been playing god. I’ve struck bargains with God that he can take care of big things, like the Middle East or finding better Presidential candidates. I’ll take care of my marriage, my children, my life and when things didn’t turn out the way I wanted or planned-devastation.

We have suffered parenting problems, marriage issues and family crises that I would not wish on my worst enemy.  Yet instead of turning to the God who gave me Danny, I have turned to ME.  And what a horrible job I have done.  The best part(or the worst)is the more that things spun out of control, the tighter I held on.

There’s a story of tribe that traps monkeys by putting a banana in a cage with a small hole.  The monkey smells the banana, reaches in and grabs it.  He is caught when he tries to pull his hand out and can’t because the opening is not big enough for his clenched fist.  He squeals and jumps up and down and makes all kinds of noise, which alerts the hunters.  Of course it is a sad end for the monkey.  But he could have been free all along if he would have given up what he was holding on so tightly to.  That is me.  I too can be free if I would only stop holding on so tightly.  

Again, there’s that common denominator rearing it’s ugly head…ME!  Thankfully, as luck would have it,  it is Friday May 13, 2016. A perfect time to hit my knees and stop trying on my own.   God doesn’t need my help.  I need His.  I need to get out of his way and let Him have His way.  After all, look what happened the last time.  Didn’t end up so bad for me.  Have you seen my husband??

Jeremiah 29:11New International Version (NIV)

11 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

“The Days Are Long, But The Years Are Short”

Kindergarten 2003

 Senior Year 2016

image

As Jeffrey heads into the final months of college, I stumbled across this in my archives. In the days to come I will write of how far he has soared when we let him go! 1/14/2021

26 May 2016

I’ve scoured the house. Looked in every nook and cranny and I cannot find it. I am heart broken. Only a mother will understand. The picture above is not the right picture. I wanted the picture of my son’s FIRST day of Kindergarten. We moved two years ago. I cannot find the picture, I had to settle for this one-taken mid year. On this his last day of school, I wanted to post his first day of school photo. with his last day.  I knew one would be impossible.  Because let’s face it, me getting “a last day of school” picture is like bathing a cat.  It might get done.  But no one on either end of that deal is going to be happpy  Still, I wanted those pictures, both of them.  I have neither.  Only a mother will understand. It’s about the journey.  And it has flown by!

You know how they tell you to read to your child every day. I did. No one said when to start. So in the absence of knowledge, I went with sooner, than later. I started reading to Jeffrey at 6 months, twice a day, before nap and bedtime. As he grew, he would sit at my side and listen to me read for as long as I would. My mother marveled at how a toddler would sit that long. I’m not sure how much of it was the reading and how much of it was that it was our time together. Either way, it instilled in him a great love of reading, an inquisitive mind and a thirst for learning.

When Jeffrey was 18 months old, he could identify the alphabet with flash cards. “Thatza A. Thatza J, Thatza Q.” Apparently he was channeling his inner Italian. The only thing Italian about my side of the family is that we had a swimming pool growing up and always enjoyed a rousing game of Marco Polo. As for Danny’s side, his brother Steve makes a mean spaghetti. I don’t know what that was all about. But he knew his alphabet. Loved the letter Q.

At 2, he knew every state and it’s capital off the top of his head. He could read before kindergarten. Imagine my surprise then, when his teachers called me in for a conference. They were a little concerned that he might be behind. They pointed to his art projects. One in particular was made just after a visit to a pumpkin patch, which I chaperoned. The hay wagon driver informed us that there were hundreds and hundreds of pumpkins in the patch. Upon returning to school, the children were instructed to draw what they saw. The teachers presented me with Jeffrey’s drawing. Rows and rows of black and white circles with lines coming out of them filled the page. They looked at my quizzically. I laughed. More odd looks. What my son had drawn were hundreds and hundreds of pumpkins…circles with “stems”. He is very literal and not prone to color!

To further my point, we got Danny satellite TV for his birthday so he could watch all the sports that we wanted. I came upon Jeffrey, then 6, in the living room looking at the materials after the technician left. I thought he was looking at the channel lineup for Nickelodeon and Disney. No, he was reading about how the transponder hit the satellite and how to adjust it if necessary for rain fade. No joke.

Around the same time, my little Bill Gates, hacked into my Amazon account and purchased himself a Buzz Lightyear. You know, the 20″ tall one with the wings that pop out, laser arm and all the bells and whistles. I canceled the order. It was just before Christmas. Rich Brenner, Danny’s sports director, always played Santa to our kids. Had the greatest suit. Before he came to our house to hear the kid’s wish lists, we tipped him off to our hacker’s escapades. So there is 7 year old Jeffrey on Santa’s lap and the question comes up as to whether he has been a good little boy. Of course Jeffrey responded yes. Then, the “All Knowing” Santa let on that he knew about the Amazon job. Oh, the joys of parenting! Let’s just say, he was on the “Nice List” for a long time.

Computers became his passion. It started out with watching the Hamster Dance video continually, to now be addicted to Twitter and Reddit-both places where he apparently espouses his political opinions. Spoiler alert: He’s a Republican! He watches every debate, follows all the pundits, reads all the sites. He can argue with the best of them. And that is what he wants to do for a living, studying Communications and become a Political Pundit. As his mother, let me tell you he will have great success arguing his point. He makes “It all depends on what your definition of ‘is’ is.” look like child’s play. His Achille’s Tendon however,is that he has no poker face. When he lies, the corner of his mouth turns up. He can’t help it. God is so good. He doesn’t get much by us. There goes our dream of sending him to Vegas to count cards though.

So today is his last day of high school. Four years ago when I dropped him off on his first day, I cried. I didn’t cry on his first day of kindergarten. He was ready for it. But I cried on the first day of high school. He seemed so skinny and gangly and small. The seniors walking from the car lot had beards, side burns-they looked like they had wives, children and a 30 year mortgage. As I pulled away, I cried. It got easier. Now we are days from graduation, then off to UNC-Charlotte. I know I will cry. I remember when he was a toddler. We were at Dennis Weaver Park in Tucson. He was playing in the sand. Every time he took his hands out, I dutifully brushed them off.  A grandmother had been watching me. She walked over and sat down next to me. She put her hand on me and said, “Honey, let him go.”

I love you Jeffrey…forever. I think that you can do anything  You are the smartest, most quick witted, clever minded young man I know. If success is measured in friends, your are rich indeed. There are times I want to go back to the days when you would let me read you book after book, hour after hour. Those days I will always have and cherish.  But this day,  Honey, I am letting you go!     You are ready.

“Those we have held in our arms for a little while, we hold in our hearts forever.”
Author unknown

Jeffrey’s Life Verse:

Matthew 6:33
But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 

"The Days Are Long, But The Years Are Short"

Kindergarten 2003

 Senior Year 2016

image

As Jeffrey heads into the final months of college, I stumbled across this in my archives. In the days to come I will write of how far he has soared when we let him go! 1/14/2021

26 May 2016

I’ve scoured the house. Looked in every nook and cranny and I cannot find it. I am heart broken. Only a mother will understand. The picture above is not the right picture. I wanted the picture of my son’s FIRST day of Kindergarten. We moved two years ago. I cannot find the picture, I had to settle for this one-taken mid year. On this his last day of school, I wanted to post his first day of school photo. with his last day.  I knew one would be impossible.  Because let’s face it, me getting “a last day of school” picture is like bathing a cat.  It might get done.  But no one on either end of that deal is going to be happpy  Still, I wanted those pictures, both of them.  I have neither.  Only a mother will understand. It’s about the journey.  And it has flown by!

You know how they tell you to read to your child every day. I did. No one said when to start. So in the absence of knowledge, I went with sooner, than later. I started reading to Jeffrey at 6 months, twice a day, before nap and bedtime. As he grew, he would sit at my side and listen to me read for as long as I would. My mother marveled at how a toddler would sit that long. I’m not sure how much of it was the reading and how much of it was that it was our time together. Either way, it instilled in him a great love of reading, an inquisitive mind and a thirst for learning.

When Jeffrey was 18 months old, he could identify the alphabet with flash cards. “Thatza A. Thatza J, Thatza Q.” Apparently he was channeling his inner Italian. The only thing Italian about my side of the family is that we had a swimming pool growing up and always enjoyed a rousing game of Marco Polo. As for Danny’s side, his brother Steve makes a mean spaghetti. I don’t know what that was all about. But he knew his alphabet. Loved the letter Q.

At 2, he knew every state and it’s capital off the top of his head. He could read before kindergarten. Imagine my surprise then, when his teachers called me in for a conference. They were a little concerned that he might be behind. They pointed to his art projects. One in particular was made just after a visit to a pumpkin patch, which I chaperoned. The hay wagon driver informed us that there were hundreds and hundreds of pumpkins in the patch. Upon returning to school, the children were instructed to draw what they saw. The teachers presented me with Jeffrey’s drawing. Rows and rows of black and white circles with lines coming out of them filled the page. They looked at my quizzically. I laughed. More odd looks. What my son had drawn were hundreds and hundreds of pumpkins…circles with “stems”. He is very literal and not prone to color!

To further my point, we got Danny satellite TV for his birthday so he could watch all the sports that we wanted. I came upon Jeffrey, then 6, in the living room looking at the materials after the technician left. I thought he was looking at the channel lineup for Nickelodeon and Disney. No, he was reading about how the transponder hit the satellite and how to adjust it if necessary for rain fade. No joke.

Around the same time, my little Bill Gates, hacked into my Amazon account and purchased himself a Buzz Lightyear. You know, the 20″ tall one with the wings that pop out, laser arm and all the bells and whistles. I canceled the order. It was just before Christmas. Rich Brenner, Danny’s sports director, always played Santa to our kids. Had the greatest suit. Before he came to our house to hear the kid’s wish lists, we tipped him off to our hacker’s escapades. So there is 7 year old Jeffrey on Santa’s lap and the question comes up as to whether he has been a good little boy. Of course Jeffrey responded yes. Then, the “All Knowing” Santa let on that he knew about the Amazon job. Oh, the joys of parenting! Let’s just say, he was on the “Nice List” for a long time.

Computers became his passion. It started out with watching the Hamster Dance video continually, to now be addicted to Twitter and Reddit-both places where he apparently espouses his political opinions. Spoiler alert: He’s a Republican! He watches every debate, follows all the pundits, reads all the sites. He can argue with the best of them. And that is what he wants to do for a living, studying Communications and become a Political Pundit. As his mother, let me tell you he will have great success arguing his point. He makes “It all depends on what your definition of ‘is’ is.” look like child’s play. His Achille’s Tendon however,is that he has no poker face. When he lies, the corner of his mouth turns up. He can’t help it. God is so good. He doesn’t get much by us. There goes our dream of sending him to Vegas to count cards though.

So today is his last day of high school. Four years ago when I dropped him off on his first day, I cried. I didn’t cry on his first day of kindergarten. He was ready for it. But I cried on the first day of high school. He seemed so skinny and gangly and small. The seniors walking from the car lot had beards, side burns-they looked like they had wives, children and a 30 year mortgage. As I pulled away, I cried. It got easier. Now we are days from graduation, then off to UNC-Charlotte. I know I will cry. I remember when he was a toddler. We were at Dennis Weaver Park in Tucson. He was playing in the sand. Every time he took his hands out, I dutifully brushed them off.  A grandmother had been watching me. She walked over and sat down next to me. She put her hand on me and said, “Honey, let him go.”

I love you Jeffrey…forever. I think that you can do anything  You are the smartest, most quick witted, clever minded young man I know. If success is measured in friends, your are rich indeed. There are times I want to go back to the days when you would let me read you book after book, hour after hour. Those days I will always have and cherish.  But this day,  Honey, I am letting you go!     You are ready.

“Those we have held in our arms for a little while, we hold in our hearts forever.”
Author unknown

Jeffrey’s Life Verse:

Matthew 6:33
But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 

Quickly Flow The Years…

kel-6months
the-one-2

08 Jun, 2018

In the musical “Fiddler On The Roof”, the parents’ of the bride and groom sing about how their children have grown so quickly.  “Is this the little girl I carried?” goes one line.  “When did she get to be a beauty?”goes another. “Wasn’t it yesterday when they were small? Sunrise. Sunset. Sunrise. Sunset. Quickly flow the years. One season following another, flowing with happiness and tears.”  The years were quick, but oh have they been sweet.

What happened to the little one I carried?  She is a a young woman now. In my mind’s eye she is the toddler with a crib full of pacifiers. To make life easier, we’d toss six of them in your crib. You would hold them in your hands and rotate one after another into your mouth systematically. Sometimes during the day, I’d hold one behind my back and rattle the handle and your eyes would light up. Like to think we’d never break you of those. But you made it to high school without them!!  

When Jeffrey started school and it was just you and me, I’d chased you around the house. It was belly laughs and squeals of delight as you ran from me and I’d catch you from behind and cuddle you in my arms. We started our now infamous trips to Target back then with your Little Tykes plastic shopping cart. You learned to shop Target well.  Although I still have cuts on the back of my ankles from where you rammed that tiny cart into me.

Every year I was your class parent and volunteered each week. There wasn’t a day or a battle that I wasn’t there to fight for you when someone was picking on you or hurting you. When you got silent lunch in kindergarten for not bringing in your baggy book, and you cried all day, someone got a piece of my mind. You were only 5 for Pete’s sake.  No one puts my Baby in a corner, to put a twist on a iconic phrase.

Some of my favorite memories of you are when you played Upward Basketball.  What you lacked in height, you made up for in tenacity.  No one out played you on defense or offense. Actually, I think you always had the ball, were attempting to get the ball, were inbounding the ball, were bringing the ball up court or were scraping for the ball on the floor.  Lebron James has nothing on you.  

In middle school your dad introduced you to softball. It may be the single best thing that ever happened to you. You learned the importance of team play, competition, discipline, confidence, more than anything you learned how to fight through adversity. You hung in there when things were very tough. You never gave up, even when I knew you wanted to. You kept you emotions at bay and held your head high. I know that came from God and the many people lifting you up in prayer. I hope you know that too. At this year’s Ragsdale Softball Awards Ceremony you won the Ragsdale Diamond “R” Award for leadership on the field and playing the game correctly with heart and intensity. How proud you made your dad and me…especially your dad.

More than anything Kelliann I am so proud of how you have always chosen to go to Sunday school, to be in a small Bible study group, to go on retreats and inner city church service projects out of state.  Each Wednesday night you faithfully go to the big church group and then on Sundays you are off to your small group to learn more about the God who made you to have a relationship with Him. In the process you’ve learned about yourself and who you are-who you are in Him.  It is my prayer that the good work that He began in you will continue as you go out into this crazy world.  

You have become my best friend. No one make me laugh so hard that my stomach hurts and cramps, my mascara runs and I cannot breath.  It difficult for some to believe that we have a Snapchat streak and that I have been heart broken when I forgot a day and broke our long streak. It was you who reassured me that it was “not that deep” and that we’d just start another.  There are few things that I enjoy more than curling up on the couch with you and watching “Castle”, “Friends” or the The Office”.  I am so proud of you for not being a weekend partier.  With dad working nights and weekends, I coveted my time with you.  How I love scratching your back and tucking your hair behind your ear each night while listening to your hopes and dreams-or laughing until we scare the dog.  Either late at night or in the morning, us three girls, you me and Lexie all curled up in your bed, it does not get any better than that.  You don’t know this, but I take a mental snap shot every time, making sure that I never forget or take one moment for granted.  You are truly a gift from God.

And so my my beauty the years have indeed flowed quickly into each other. And in that time God has grown you into a strong woman before my eyes. You have a sense of right and wrong that will serve you, and those around you, well. Do not suffer injustice for yourself or anyone. Fight the good fight,  

I leave you with the verse I gave you at birth, “ Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all you strength and with all you mind,” and, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” (Luke 10:27)  You will succeed in life if you do this. It is foolproof. Go with God as He goes with you. 

“I’ll love you forever. I’ll like you for always.  As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.”

Mommy

Starry, Starry Night

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12 Dec, 2017

This time of year the daytime turns to nighttime in a blink of an eye. Winter days are short.  The nights are long, dark and cold.  That cold air seems to brighten and boost the streaming light of the stars. Much in the same way, my daughter Kelliann turned from a baby girl into a young lady in that blink of an eye. The years have been short.  On a cold, dark night last week she set off to give a speech, the final part of her Senior Project, and when she came down the stairs, she shone as bright as any star that dotted the Carolina sky. I was a bit star struck by how much she looked like a star…a little Audrey Hepburn.

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There was a bit of irony that night.  Gracing a little black dress, pearls and hair in a bun, she was prepared to deliver a speech on the disparities between women playing softball and men playing baseball.

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Maybe wear her softball uniform, she is a Ragsdale’s varsity softball pitcher after all.  She has played since middle school.  Her ride is about to end.  Only the elite play in college, 100 professionally.  While Alex Rodriguez made a half a billion dollars over his career as the best hitter in baseball, his softball counter part at the same time, the University of Arizona’s Leah O’Brien made next to nothing. She does have 3 Olympic Softball Gold Medals.  This was  Kelliann’s speech in part.  

The best part of her project was the product, which was an DVD interview with Leah O’Brien via FaceTime. As a former television producer/interviewer, I was incredibly impressed the way my 17 year old daughter handled herself with this 3 time Olympian. multiple NCAA Softball Champion, NCAA All American athlete. Kelliann may not be ABC’s Elizabeth Vargas yet,  but Elizabeth may need to keep her 20/20 eyes on her.  

She aptly named her project “Fair Ball?”  As parents we turn ourselves upside down and inside out trying to teach our children that life isn’t fair. Leah O’Brien did this for us in a 15 minute FaceTime interview. In games where the ball, the field and the bat may be different, everything else remains the same- the love of the game, the passion to play and the drive to win. But opportunities to play, to be compensated, to be recognized, well those 3 strikes are against you. If you play it simply because you love it, you win something else altogether-O’Brien called all the women athletes that came before her trailblazers.  She said it was all worth it just to be in the game and to pave the way for the next generation.

And so my “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” young woman made her case to the judges. In the end she hit a home run-a perfect score. Telling the judges, “I don’t regret a practice, a game, a pitch, a swing and even running sprints.”  Kelliann played it for the love of the game and learned a valuable lesson.  Shine Kelliann, Shine!

Daddy Little Girl, Sam I Am

Happy Father’s Day!

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14 Jun, 2016

On my wedding day my daddy took me down the aisle and gave my hand to my husband. My heart however, forever held on to him. My entire life my daddy wore many hats. He was protector, provider, supporter and advisor; the wrestler of a “4 Girl Tag Team”, Santa’s helper (who stayed up all night assembling toys), our “Family” doctor for removing splinters and trimming nails, Chex Party Mix maker, pop corn popper, turkey and stuffing roaster, a horsy back ride to bed, car mechanic and handyman who always lived up to the battle cry, “Daddy can fix it!” -broken toys, appliances, cars or hearts. We truly believed that with all of ours.

I am the youngest of 4 girls. No boys for my dad. He said he was never disappointed at the words, “It’s a girl.” I believe him. Growing up, I was at his side, working on cars, changing oil, brake pads, setting the timing. I handed him tools, wedged my hands into tight spaces he couldn’t reach under the hood of cars, sinks, etc.  I carried wheel barrels full of grass clippings over the hill when he mowed the lawn. Afterwards we’d watch golf in the family room or played in the pool,  He nicknamed me Sam. I was his son.

We moved to Missouri for my dad to hire employees for a new Westinghouse plant. In Jefferson City it was known as “My Dad’s Plant”. Friends would ask me, “Can you get me a job at your dad’s plant?” Everyone knew my dad. He ran for public office once, sat on nearly every board ever formed and built sets for the local Little Theater. But Westinghouse was his life. He worked there nearly 40 years.  

There’s a debate whether the McGrath girls bleed Westinghouse Blue or Black and Gold.  My dad loved the Pittsburgh Steelers, a passion that he passed along to us all.  I grew up watching Terry Bradshaw take the Steelers to four Super Bowls with my dad.  Lynn Swann, John Stallworth, Franco Harris, L.C. Greenwood, Mean Joe Greene, Rocky Blieir.  His favorite-Jack Lambert.  He called him “The Animal”.    He loved them when they won and when they lost.  He was a good sport.  A fair man.  Loyal.


Of all the lessons I learned from my daddy, the one that has always stayed with me is, “No one ever said life was going to be fair“.  As a child, not much comfort there.  As an adult, truer words have never been said.  Still, my dad always worked to make our lives better than his.   Once when I was struggling in the crazy world of TV News, my dad tried to get me a job at the Westinghouse site where he was working in South Carolina. He even went looking for apartments for me-showed it to me when I came to visit for Christmas. I was so touched. He later told me that he failed us girls. Completely at a loss, I asked how. He said because he never let us see him fail. I was a full grown adult and my dear, sweet dad was still taking responsibility for my frailties. What a heart full of love.

In 1990 that heart suffered an attack, lost 40% of it’s muscle and a downward spiral began. The doctors told us that he needed a new heart, but he was too old to get one. It looked bleak. They underestimated my father.

Four years later my dad walked me down that aisle. He proudly gave away his Baby. At the reception, that dear, sweet man who picked out that apartment, had picked out a song for our dance-“Daddy’s Little Girl”. He sang every word of it in my ear. Best day of my life with the best men in my life.

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While Daddy never failed, hearts do. He had stent after stent procedure, more than 20 in all. He’d have more heart attacks, He’d have two strokes. He’d go to rehab and fight his way back. In the end, a few weeks shy of his 75 birthday, the fight ended 10 years ago.  No body ever said life was going to be fair.

At the hospital, the priest came to give him Last Rites. He didn’t speak english well. He asked me to read the passage from the bible. In part it read:

Matthew 11:27
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“All things have been committed to me by my Father. No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.”

When I finished reading my daddy took my hand and told the priest, “This is my son.” Struggling with his english and to understand, the priest questioned him. My daddy said again, “This is my son.” And I am his son. Will always be-in my heart.

He is forever in mine. By his example he taught me how to live with dignity, integrity and grace-and by those same qualities he taught me how to die. He never gave up, or in-or quit. He fulfilled the verses in 2 Timothy 4: 7, 8 “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge will award to me on that day-and not only to me, but to all those who have longed for his appearing.”   Well done good and faithful servant!

Happy Father’s Day Daddy!  

Your daughter/son Sam!

A Daughter’s Tribute: Lessons from Daddy

Daddy’s Little Girl

On my wedding day, my daddy took me down the aisle and gave my hand to my husband. My heart forever held on to him. 

My entire life, my daddy wore many hats. He was protector, provider, supporter and advisor; the wrestler of a “4 Girl Tag Team”, Santa’s helper (who stayed up all night assembling toys), our “Family” doctor for removing splinters and trimming nails, Chex Party Mix maker, popcorn popper, turkey and stuffing roaster, a horseback ride to bed, car mechanic and handyman -who always lived up to the battle cry, “Daddy can fix it!” -broken toys, appliances, cars or hearts. We truly believed that with all of ours.

I am the youngest of 4 girls. No boys for my dad. He said he was never disappointed at the words, “It’s a girl.” I believe him. Growing up, I was at his side, working on cars, changing oil brake pads, and setting the timing. I handed him tools when he worked on cars or house projects. When he mowed the lawn, I carried wheel barrels full of grass clippings over the hill. Afterwards, we’d watch golf in the family room or play in the pool. He nicknamed me Sam. I was his son.

We moved to Missouri, where my dad hired employees for a new Westinghouse plant. In Jefferson City, it was known as “My Dad’s Plant.” Friends would ask me, “Can you get me a job at your dad’s plant?” Everyone knew my dad. He ran for public office, sat on nearly every board formed, and built sets for the local Little Theater. But Westinghouse was his life. He worked there for almost 40 years.

There’s a debate whether the McGrath girls bleed Westinghouse Blue or Black and Gold. My dad loved the Pittsburgh Steelers, a passion he passed to us girls. I grew up watching Terry Bradshaw take the Steelers to four Super Bowls with my dad. Lynn Swann, John Stallworth, Franco Harris, L.C. Greenwood, Mean Joe Greene, Rocky Blieir. His favorite-Jack Lambert. He called him “The Animal”. He loved them when they won and when they lost. He was a good sport. A fair man. Loyal.

Of all the lessons I learned from my daddy, the one that has always stayed with me is, “No one ever said life was going to be fair“. As a child, that didn’t bring much comfort. As an adult, I realize truer words have never been said. Still, my dad always worked to make our lives better than his. Once, when I struggled in the TV News industry, my dad tried to get me a job at the Westinghouse where he worked. He even went looking for apartments for me. When I visited my parents for Christmas, he showed it to me. I was so touched.

He later told me that he had failed us girls. Completely at a loss, I asked how. He said that because he never let us see him fail. I was a full-grown adult, and my dear sweet dad was still taking responsibility for my frailties. What a heart full of love.

In 1990, that heart suffered an attack, lost 40% of its muscle, and a downward spiral began. The doctors told us that he needed a new heart, but he was too old to get one. It looked bleak. They underestimated my father.

Four years later, my dad walked me down the aisle. He proudly gave away his “Baby.” At the reception, that dear man had picked out a song for our dance: “Daddy’s Little Girl.” He sang every word of it in my ear. Best day of my life with the best men in my life.

While Daddy never failed, hearts do. He had tent after the stent procedures more than 20 in all. He’d have more heart attacks. He’d have two strokes. He’d go to rehab and fight his way back. A few weeks shy of his 75th birthday, the fight ended. Nobody ever said life was going to be fair.

At the hospital, the priest came to give him Last Rites. He didn’t speak English well. He asked me to read the passage from the bible. In part, it read:

Matthew 11:27
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“All things have been committed to me by my Father. No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.”

When I finished reading, my daddy took my hand and told the priest, “This is my son.” The priest questioned him, struggling with his English and trying to understand. My daddy said again, “This is my son.” I was his son, helper, and apprentice in many ways. In my heart, I am always Daddy’s Little Girl.

He is forever in mine. By his example, he taught me how to live with dignity, integrity, and grace- and by those same qualities, he taught me how to die. He never gave up, or in-or quit. He fulfilled the verses in 

2 Timothy 4: 7, 8, 

“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge will award to me on that day-and not only to me, but to all those who have longed for his appearing.”

Happy birthday, Daddy. I will love and miss you always, but you are never far away. I use your tools to fix things around my house and carry the lessons you taught me wherever I go. You fought the good fight and now have your reward. Well done, good and faithful servant!