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I remember the very first Pinewood Derby I ever saw.

I returned from that event excited about the prospects of becoming a Cub Scout, and eventually a Boy Scout.  When I asked Dad if I could be in the Boy Scouts, he said, "They won't teach you anything that I can't teach you."  And he was right, mostly!

Dad taught me to shoot rifles and shotguns, and he taught me to do it well and safely.

Dad taught me how to raise a garden, including how to use an old-school push plow.

Dad taught me how to build a fire, even when it had been or was raining (knowing how to identify "jack" pine in the woods is the key).

Dad taught me how to load and handle and shoot old fashioned, patch and ball muzzle-loading rifles, with my saliva providing the lube for the patch!

Dad taught me how to skin, dress and cook just about every legal game animal in the Southeast.  We would even take combination camping and hunting trips where we would wash whatever we killed in the mountain creeks and cook them over an open fire and a hand-made "spit."  I've still never tasted meat as good as a fresh-killed squirrel cooked whole over a smokey campfire.

Dad taught me how to use all shapes and sizes of knives.

Dad taught me how to throw a tomahawk and use an ax.

Dad taught me how to hunt (and his Dad, my Granddaddy, taught me how to fish).

Dad taught me how to identify certain trees and plants in the woods, especially those animals use for food sources.

Dad taught me how to shoot a basketball, how to throw and catch a baseball, and how to swing a bat.

Dad taught me it was more than manly and OK to give a hug and kiss on the cheek and say "I love you" to those closest to you in life.

Dad taught me what a man looked like, walked like, spoke like, and thought like.

Dad taught me integrity, respect and dignity, and how to treat others.

Dad taught me pride in our family name, and the value of family loyalty.

Dad taught me the habit of gathering with the church several times a week, every week, without fail.

I'm sure Dad taught me far more than this short list.  But of all the things Dad taught me, without a doubt the most valuable lesson was the constant reminder Dad gave me of my absolute need as a sinner of Jesus, the One and Only Savior.

Thanks, Dad.  You were right . . . I didn't need the Boy Scouts!

Well, maybe I needed them to learn how to build a pinewood derby car, but in the overall scope of things, that seems so insignificant now.

I love you, Dad.  I praise God for choosing you to be my Dad.  Thanks for being my teacher, and for pointing me to the Master Teacher and Lord.