My father was an angry man. I mean he was so angry that he would get upset at the weirdest things. I understood that he didn’t like loud rock n roll first thing in the morning while he was trying to read the paper and get ready for work. 2SM in the 60s was definitely not his kind of music. Now that was entirely understandable but then he would get very upset when someone had left the butter out of the fridge overnight and now it was soft. Isn’t that what butter is supposed to be so you can spread it easily, rather than having to hack at the block for 20 minutes and only managing to get one piece of toast covered? Dad’s logic was stupefying to me and it has remained so for most of my life. Why get so angry about such a stupid thing?

Well recently I had a revelation about soft butter. If you fought in New Guinea during World War 2, your butter would not only be too soft all the time but likely rancid as well. I have always liked soft butter but unlike my dad I did not fight in the 1940s. Remembering the war was never on dad’s agenda. He never talked about the war, we just noticed photos of him in uniform and mum told us he was in the artillery, which was why his hearing was shot. Dad no doubt saw things he refused to talk about and most war vets don’t mention such things. He hurt my mother once and that was the last straw for me and I cut my father out of my heart forever, or so I thought. Receiving the love of our heavenly Father is only possible if you have the heart of a son and I had hardened up. Now I understand that dad was only doing the best he could do with the cards he had been dealt in life. He loved me as best he could. I have so much more grace for my dad these days and I now receive my heavenly Father’s love much more freely.

– Jim Watt