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Dreams And A Little About My Dad

No dream was ever made real without an awakening.

Two years ago I had that awakening. It was loud. It was clear. Without a shadow of a  doubt in my mind, God has called me to be many things, among them-a writer. We all have dreams. We dream of this or that. We dream of a better world. Or let’s scale it down a bit. We dream of a better house. A better job…a better story idea?

It’s fine and dandy to have dreams. They are God-given. But we have to wake up for that dream to be realized. We can dream all we want but without action…those dreams will stay…dreams. Joseph was sleeping when God gave him his dreams. His eyes were open when he accomplished them. The same is true for David in that when he slew Goliath, he was alert. he was ready. He was willing. Dreams and faith go hand in hand.

There was a theme going on here at the New Authors Fellowship. It wasn’t until a few posts in that I remembered an image that I had in my files for quite some time.

Almost by kelc

Take a look at this picture. This little guy dreams. I mean he’s dreaming big.  I’m sure his buddies said it was impossible. All the evidence is contrary to his beliefs. But he’s willing.

Dream big.

He was just being a father

I remember when I was maybe 11 or 12, living in Sinton, Tx. I was in the car with my mom and dad. I don’t remember anyone else being in the car with us, maybe my sister. It was summer time. As we drove we came to be on the street where my school was.  I wasn’t paying attention until we stopped suddenly. By the time I looked up to see why we had stopped my father was already outside of the car heading towards some basketball courts at the school. I looked out and saw a fight. Two boys were laying into each other and there were maybe ten kids around them. He ran to the middle of the court and most of of the kids had ran in fear of the adult present. The boys that were fighting hadn’t yet noticed and my father literally stepped right in and separated them. I couldn’t hear but I saw his mouth moving and his body language told me he was upset. The kids looked at each other in surprise, their cheeks red and clothes disheveled and a look I was not too familiar with yet*. They ran off in separate directions and my father walked back to the car.

While my father was acting as referee, I was hiding down in the car embarrassed to say the least. Dad, what are you doing? Oh, man their going to see me! I thought.

I don’t remember what he said if anything at all. I do remember him shaking his head and I vividly remember the kids faces when they saw him approaching. They were both surprised and embarrassed themselves. Surprised that a grown-up would actually step in to break this up perhaps.

Some time back I remembered this. I saw it with different eyes. I saw it through the eyes of a believer. Through the eyes of a man who came to respect his father. I saw it through the eyes of a father.

So many feelings and stirrings entered my mind and heart. The one I remember so clearly was shame. I mean I was
only a kid, but I was ashamed at how the 12 year-old me behaved. Though no one ever knew what I was thinking, I did. I remembered. That memory cast a shadow over what my father did for me that day. So in that moment of reflection I bowed my head and thanked God for my dad. It was valient. Valiente.

With that guilt and shame gone I saw it all again and was proud of my dad. How many cars passed through? How many people passed by and scoffed at these troubled kids fighting? How many said, That is all they are good for or Look at them?

My father didn’t just pass through. He made himself visible to them. He stood proud and got them to stop. Now, maybe they finished their fight elsewhere. Who knows? Them and God. Maybe they didn’t. Maybe one out of the 12 or 13 kids involved in the fight saw a father. Perhaps one they didn’t have. Perhaps the one they did have, but was at a point of his life when he didn’t care. Maybe he drank too much. Maybe he hit too hard. I don’t know.  But I want to believe that what my father did that afternoon changed the life of at least one person.

As a matter of fact…I’m sure of it. Because he changed me that day. In order to understand just how awesome this sight was you’d have to know the man. His history. Perhaps another time.  I’ll just say he gave some of himself away that day. He could’ve been hurt. One of them could’ve had a weapon. They could have jumped him. But that didn’t phase him. He couldn’t just drive on by and allow these kids to hurt themselves. He did it for them. Strangers. That is a Fathers love.

Dad I love you. I am proud of you. I thank you for all that you have done. In the eyes of man…you may not have conquered…but I tell you Oscar G. Longoria-you more than conquered. You did it your way as one of your favorite songs says.

Christ, you know him. The man who to this day has the Word opened to the Book Of Proverbs. The man who left us-TO WORK-for a long period of time in a far-off town in freezing temperatures, and I thank You for that man. My father, given to me by the Father.

When he came home from that out of town job, I filmed him with an old camcorder. He is staring out of the front door singing this, one of his all-time favorite songs.

Nessun dorma! Nessun dorma!
Tu pure, o Principessa,
Nella tua fredda stanza
Guardi le stelle
Che tremano d’amore e di speranza.
Ma il mio mistero è chiuso in me,
Il nome mio nessun saprà!, no, no
Sulla tua bocca lo dirò!…
(Puccini: Quando la luce splenderà!)
Quando la luce splenderà,
(Puccini:No, no, Sulla tua bocca lo dirò)
Ed il mio bacio scioglierà il silenzio
Che ti fa mia!…
Voci di donne
Il nome suo nessun saprà…
E noi dovremo, ahimè, morir, morir!…
Il principe ignoto
Dilegua, o notte!… Tramontate, stelle! Tramontate, stelle!…
All’alba vincerò!
vincerò! vincerò!
Translation

“Nobody shall sleep!…

Nobody shall sleep!
Even you, o Princess,
in your cold room,
watch the stars,
that tremble with love and with hope.
But my secret is hidden within me,

my name no one shall know… No!…No!… On your mouth I will tell it when the light shines.

And my kiss will dissolve the silence that makes you mine!…

(No one will know his name and we must, alas, die.)

Vanish, o night! Set, stars! Set, stars!

At dawn, I will win! I will win! I will win!”

Most definitely Pops. Happy Father’s Day. You gave me my name, red lion and you gave me peace and justice. I carry it with me. In your name, in your father’s name and in the name of our Father…We will win.

Be blessed…dream BIG.

Love grows by giving. The love we give away is the only love we keep. –Elbert Hubbard

Tell your children about it in the years to come, and let your children tell their children. Pass the story down from generation to generation.–Joel 1:3

About Tymothy Longoria

Tymothy Longoria has been described as a writer with a flair for the dramatic (whether this is true still remains to be seen). He is a fan of all things fantastic, metal music, black t-shirts, and aligns himself with geeks, nerds, and all manner of monsters, and is an ardent, optimistic supporter of his fellow creatives. He has written several short stories for the online macabre zine Underneath The Juniper Tree and in 2012 was awarded Debut Author of the Year by Twisted Core Press for 'Envy', his contribution to the Seven Deadly Sins Anthology. He is currently editing his full-length dark fantasy retelling, Revenants: Book One of The Stories. Fairy tales? If only. Legends will be reborn. Tymothy calls Texas home, where he lives with his wife, two children, and a cat called ThunderCat aka Kitty PawKitty. He is represented by Bree Ogden of Red Sofa Literary.

18 comments on “Dreams And A Little About My Dad

  1. My Dearest Tymothy,

    What a wonderful memory and testamonial, any Father would be proud to have you as a son!

    • Mi<3 I thank you. When I read this I dropped my head. As a mother-a very loved one at that-you understand what it means to a child for his or her mother/father to tell him/her , "I am proud of you."

      Thank you.

  2. This was wonderful to read. It warmed my heart and inspired my soul. : )

  3. A great illustration of God’s love and Christ’s sacrifice, not caring for his own well being, but “who gave himself for our sins to deliver us from the present evil age, according to the will of our God and Father, 5 to whom be the glory forever and ever. Amen.” (Gal. 1:4-5)

    I’m enjoying getting to know you bit by bit, Tym, and praise God to hear of powerful and changing moments in your life. I’m sure your dad is proud to read this. What an honor, and a glory to God.

  4. Great Blog. Lost my dad years ago when I was 18. Wish he was still here.

  5. Tim, my fellow Timmy.

    Indeed. Christ did it all. Willingly.

    My father was/is one of the greatest examples and inspirations in my life. When he gave his life to Christ…it all made sense.

    The calling of God. The nudges and whispers. His sacrifices. All reflections of Christ and for that I am honored.

    Thank you Tim. We have much to do. We have much to accomplish.

    • Lol, not many guys can get away with calling me that, but bearing the same name makes it OK…plus it’s you.

      Yes, we do have much to do and accomplish. Thanks for the motivation. I’m currently under that weight researching parallel universes and planet killing viruses, so yeah, much to do. Story is due on the 30th…

  6. WordPress ate my comment. I swear I said how awesome this is earlier.

  7. Chuck, thank you.

    I can not say anything that you more than likely haven’t heard yet but I will say this.
    In writing this and other things of this nature I ask myself or rather tell myself: “But what of the people who have lost a father at a young age? what about those who don’t have a father?”

    I’m being honest with you. I don’t wish to offend anyone. So instead I hope it may conjure up the memories you had. The lessons he taught. What you’ve learned.

    I have a great friend whom I met just a few years ago. He, too, lost his father at 18 and every time we would talk I always tried to steer away from talking about my father, because i felt guilty. But then he would bring his own father up and tell me stories about him. I saw and knew that he missed him greatly, but his stories and his memories of him were mighty and comforting.

    Be blessed Chuck.

  8. Hi Tymothy!

    This is a great post! It made me think of similar circumstances with my dad. He’s in Ft. Worth, & I’m in S.C., so I won’t get to see him; but I’m sure we’ll talk, & can’t wait to hear his voice – much the same way I can’t wait to hear the Father’s voice when I have my quiet time & read my bible.

    Happy Saturday, & I hope you have a great Father’s Day!
    Blessings,
    Renee

  9. Tymothy, you have a way of seeing things, and a way of wording your thoughts, that is heart-touching.

  10. Kat Von H. Thank you.

    That is a blessing. My hope is that others see it as you do. My hope is that the things we feel, believe and write about…others will take something away from it. A mere reflection of His utmost…but a reflection nonetheless.

    You have blessed me.

  11. What a terrific story about your father! It’s funny how the seemingly small stuff that our parents do without thinking often make the biggest impact on us. Thanks for sharing.

    By the way, I grew up in Corpus Christi and attended Tuloso-Midway and Calallen schools, so I know exactly where Sinton is!

    • Thank you. This would the abridged version 🙂 but yes…what an impact indeed.

      It is always so cool to hear when someone is “from” where you also live or when they know just where a tiny little place like Sinton is. 🙂 Go Wildcats!…and Warriors!
      My father went to T-M as well. Calallen is home to us. I have to say it… SMALL WORLD…made smaller with the innernette.

      How very COOL!

  12. Beautifully Remembered and written, Tymothy. Indeed we never really know how our hearts leading from a new life power within it, can impact the future actions of another. ♥

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