Simple Stories...

Below is what I prepared and read at my dad's funeral Thursday, February 12, 2009...

SIMPLE STORIES

On Friday, February 6, meeting with Carter was the last thing I did before leaving the office. Carter, a senior at NorthWood, had to interview someone and report on that interview for his speech class.

2 hours later, I was driving down State Road 19 toward Elkhart General Hospital, and all I could think about was that interview. Carter’s second to last question was ringing in my ears. That question… “Who has impacted your life the most so far?”

These past few days have been marked by many simple stories where Kip Prenkert was the main character. I have remembered many myself. Some specific, and some general. 7 simple stories I share about my dad with you.

1. Laying in bed while dad read to me. There was nothing like nodding off to sleep with visions of Frodo and the Fellowship fighting the orcs, being whisked away to the magical land of Narnia, or Jerry Todd and his gang fighting off imaginary pirates. Fast forward to last April, and we will hold dear the memory of dad sitting at the love seat in the Ludington cottage, reading Dr. Seuss’s “The Foot Book” to his granddaughter Katylynn just 3 days before her adoption was finalized.
2. Opening Presents at Christmas. Prenkert Christmases never really had presents from Santa. There weren’t presents from mom or dad either. Instead, a strange array of individuals from literature, cinema, comic strips, and the even the political world were our “gift-givers”. One time I think I received a gift from a mythical creature I’d never even heard of (fortunately there was an illustration of the creature on the card to provide clarity). Of course, dad was the creative genius behind this beloved Christmas tradition.
3. At a mall in North Carolina. I can’t remember how old I was, it was definitely early grade school. The Mall fountain had a ledge around it. That ledge seemed to be a sensible place to attempt a few hand stands. On my fourth or fifth attempt that I nailed a perfect one. I held it for what felt like a very impressive amount of time. As I prepared to dismount, I seem to remember hearing mom say, “Derry, be careful or you might faaaaaaa….” My handstand had become a somersault right into a mall fountain. I came up, soaking wet, crying with embarrassment. My dad was right there. I looked at him with tears in my eyes and screamed, “Dad, what do I do?” He looked at me, gave that signature smirk, and said, “Quick, grab some change!” After a look of confusion from me, he scooped me out of the fountain, and bought me a very nice new towel at the nearest available store.
4. Just before stepping on the blocks at the swim meet. He was always there, right beside mom. I’m not sure they ever missed a meet. I would look up in the stands just before putting my goggles in place, and the book would be lying in his lap (but I noticed he had a finger inserted to the page he was on in order to pick back up). I really think dad hated swimming. But in those moments he seemed to love it.
5. The oddities that were dad. Some that come to mind are scratching his back with a fork, wearing incredibly mismatched outfits or placing pencils in orifices on his face they weren’t meant to be. In High School, I was embarrassed by those things. As years passed, I grew to admire the fact that my dad was comfortable in his skin, and fairly impervious to what others cared when it came to “social norms.”
6. My first Sunday Morning Preaching at Nappanee Missionary Church. May, 2006. That morning I would teach from God’s word to nearly 3,000 people. As I got up for the 10:45 service, I looked out and saw dad, sitting by mom. Again, that morning he had a book in his hands. It was his Bible, it was open, and the teacher was now ready to have me teach him.?
7. Dad AND mom. These stories are really incomplete with only our hero. The two were together. It wasn’t Kip. It was Kip and Jeanette. An unstoppable force of love, support, and friendship.

I’m sure all who knew dad could share their own “Kip memory” or “Kip story” as well. It would likely make several of us nod in agreement, smile, or laugh. They are simple stories… but like any truly great story, there’s much deeper meaning.

So Carter had asked me in the interview, “Who has impacted your life the most so far?”

My first answer was not my dad.

My first answer was Jesus. Jesus. My dad modeled and taught me so much about Him.

Yet, Immediately following that response I told Carter that no other person has or will ever impact me more than my dad. I told Carter this impact was by default… he’s my dad. I think any son who is able to spend multiple years around a father would have a hard time coming up with a different answer.

Here’s the thing about dad’s impact on me, I’m struggling to find where that impact was to my detriment.

I share with you simple stories of my dad, but there is much deeper meaning, because each of these simple stories display some of the most important things my dad instilled in me. I am and will continue to seek to live BECAUSE of these stories.

1. Because he read to me, I will share THAT I love my daughter, by sharing WHAT I love with my daughter.
2. Because of Christmas, I will continue to practice excessive creativity.
3. Because of that fountain, Look for a laugh, but ultimately seek to shine the heart of our Heavenly Father.
4. Because of those swim meets, I will seek to stop everything else when it’s time to love and support my family.
5. Because of my dad's oddities, I will seek to walk the path that God has called ME to walk without shame.
6. Because of that Sunday at NMC, I will never cease to be a learner.
7. Because of dad AND mom, I will Love and cherish the women I’ve been blessed to share my life with.

Thanks Carter, for allowing God to use you to PREPARE me for the current uncharted territory I find myself in. You reminded me I’ve been blessed to have an incredible earthly example of our Heavenly Father.

Galatians 5:22-23 – But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.
My dad batted a thousand.