This is an open letter to my Dad, Ben Leonard, who lives in Cabot, Ar.

Good morning, Dad. I hope you are feeling well. I know you are up and that you are fine tuning your sermon notes this morning. I’ll be praying for you. I wish I could be with you today. I just want to tell you thanks.

Thanks for showing me how to work. You always got up and went to work every morning and you worked all day and most of the night. You were always on the job. You attended to every minor detail. You are the best leader of men that I’ve ever observed. You give an honest days work for an honest pay. I can still remember the day they were pouring the footings for the new educational building at Landmark. I had ridden my bike to the church and I saw you drive up. The guys were a little short handed and you’d been makeing hospital visits but you rolled up your pants legs, took off your coat, and waded into the middle of the concrete to help them finish out before dark. I hope I never forget that.

Thanks for teaching me hospitality. You made sure that our home was open and available to anyone and everyone. I still remember the unwed mothers that lived with us while they were in the last couple of months of their pregnancies. We treated them like big sisters. They were a part of our family. I remember the little girl that lived with us for a few days because her father had killed her mother and then turned the gun on himself. I remember taking her to Little Rock to meet her grandparents who flew in from England to take she and her brothers and sisters back home. I looked at the black and white photo of she and I outside the parsonage in Jacksonville just the other day. I remember sleeping in the room with some of the guys who led worship for you. They were all young men in seminary and you gave them jobs and a place to stay while they worked. I loved those guys like brothers. I still do. Bro. James, and Charlie, and Isaias were and are still family to me. Thanks for teaching me to be open.

There are so many things I need to say thanks for but I’ll end with this one; thanks for teaching me to love God. I’ve seen you pour your heart out in the pulipt and in our home and on the street and in revivals and at camp and I knew, each time, that your zeal for God was real. I could see that God had a hold on your life and he would not let you go. And I could see that no matter how difficult things became, He was always your source of strength and inspiration. Thanks. That truth drives me even this morning as I prepare to share the Word with the folks at Pauline.

Dad, one of my greatest desires is to be like you because you are so much like Him. I love you. I’m proud to be your son. Happy Father’s Day.