Growing up my dad was always “fixing” something. He could look at a part and know what size wrench he needed. He was the one I called if something was broken. I trusted him and his ability to “fix” it. 

The Weight of the flashlight

Holding the flashlight was not for the weak at heart! We never did quite point it exactly where he needed it. My sister bought him a headpiece flashlight and it never pointed in the right direction either…

Holding the flashlight these days means something different. Years ago, he trusted us when his head was under the hood of a car. Even though he can’t remember what tool he needs, when I look into his eyes, I see his unwavering trust. I may not hold the light perfectly—but he knows I’ll take care of him.

Trust isn’t just in the way we hold the light—it’s in knowing someone else believes we will.
Sometimes it looks like surrender.

That kind of trust isn’t something you earn overnight – it’s built over a lifetime. It took him needing my help in a way I never imagined to understand the depths of his trust.

The Kind of Truth You Feel

He doesn’t always know what he’s trusting me with…but he trusts me anyway… and in these moments he shows me how proud he is of me.

He has always been headstrong. Sometimes, his determination is stronger than mine. I get my fair share of side-eyed looks. When I return those looks, I always get a laugh and a smile. I believe he is laughing and thinking, “Yep, that’s my child.”

Even though he can’t always find the words and holding the light isn’t always a simple fix anymore, we still trust each other.

While driving out to see him, I heard the song Truth by Megan Woods. (If you have not heard it, go listen to it.) As she belted out the lyrics, “The truth is I am my Father’s child, I make Him proud and I make Him smile” tears streamed down my face. The reality of someone seeing you, trusting you, and loving you even when you are not perfect is a spiritual truth but also a lesson my dad teaches me in its purest earthly form.

I used to think the truth was something you spoke, but truth is not always spoken, but always felt.

In the blur of all that’s fading, God has held the light in the perfect direction every day. He reminds me I am created in His image and I make Him proud and make Him smile. The kind of truth that holds steady, even when memory doesn’t.

He doesn’t remember how to use the wrench but maybe the truth that matters is: the flashlight doesn’t have to point perfectly, just shine through.