My 3 Dads
By Tierce Green
DAD #1
My first Dad was John Spurgeon Green. He was my Mom’s third husband. Her first marriage ended in divorce when that husband got involved with another woman, making her a young single mom with a 6-month-old daughter. Her second husband was tragically killed in their first year of marriage. She later married my Dad who died when I was 10-years-old. After that, I think she was done with husbands. Three-and-out. She never remarried.
My biological dad was a ghost to me while he was alive. He had several jobs as a traveling salesman, so he wasn’t around much physically. When he was home, he always seemed emotionally detached, never really there, deferring his responsibilities as a father to my Mom.
I only remember one conversation with him. He was in between jobs and found temporary work on an oil rig off the coast of Louisiana. He broke his leg in an accident at work. While he was recovering, my Mom and I packed up the Ford Fairlane Station Wagon at a house we were renting in Bessemer, Alabama, and drove down to see him in a small Cajun town outside of New Orleans.
We were having lunch with some of his oil rig buddies at this small mom-and-pop diner. I remember craving his attention as a young boy, desperately wanting his approval. I ordered what he ordered—a big cheeseburger with everything on it. My Dad loved spicy food, so when he drenched his burger with Tabasco Sauce, I did the same to mine. That got the approval of the other men at the table, but all my Dad could say was, “Boy, you’d better eat that. I’m not paying for anything else.”
I took a big bite, and it lit me up, but I choked down every bite. The other men slapped me on the back like they had accepted me into their club. No response from my Dad. That was the last time I would see him.
After getting the cast off of his leg, a blood clot went straight to his heart while he was driving. Some neighbors picked me up from school that day. A lot of people were at our house. My Mom took into my room, shut the door, and told me my Dad had died. I remember crying, but I wasn’t sure why. My little boy’s heart was broken for a Dad I never really knew.
There was a hole in my heart. My Mom did her best to fill it, and I will always be grateful for my strong single Mom who loved God and loved me. And—I didn’t realize it at the time, but—a good father figure was already in my life.
DAD #2
My second Dad is Benny Edwards, my brother-in-law. He married my half-sister, the daughter from my Mom’s first marriage. She is ten years older than me, and he is twelve years older than me. As it turned out, he lost his Dad when he was a little boy. I’ve watched him all my life—the way he loves God and loves people. He has always worked hard and served others. He is a man of integrity. He taught me how to tie a tie, how to change the oil in my car. He sold me my first car and taught me how to keep it clean and take care of it. Just as he said, I’ve kept cars longer, and it makes a big difference when I sell them or trade them in.
He and my sister have been married for nearly sixty years. She suffered a stroke a few years ago and lost a lot of her short-term memory. So, she will ask the same question five or six times in thirty minutes. But each time she asks the same question, my brother-in-law will answer as if he’s hearing it for the first time. He models Ephesians 5:25 that says,
“Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her.”
I continue to be inspired by his example.
DAD #3
I met my third Dad when I was the Student Pastor at a church in Greenville, SC when I was in my early twenties. Vernon McCurry was a retired IBM Executive. I had the privilege to be a guest in his home for three months of the short two-and-a-half years I was in Greenville. I watched the way he loved and led his two sons with grace and truth. There was mutual love and respect. I watched the way he loved his wife, Peggy. It clicked in my mind that this is what God intended a husband and a father to be.
He enjoyed smoking a pipe, and we would have these colorful, unfiltered, and deep conversations on his back deck. He would listen to my ideas and opinions and offer valuable insights that I still use today. The smell of good tobacco transports me back in time to those moments.
Vernon was about ninety-one years old when there were complications in a surgery that was supposed to be routine. His wonderful life was over. He and Peggy were married for over sixty years. I had the great privilege of speaking at his memorial and honoring this man’s life, legacy, and impact on me and countless others.
My life was shaped by my three Dads.
I walked through the anger of my biological Dad being MIA when I needed him most, and learned to understand what I believe were some of his own fears and manhood struggles. God helped me release my anger and cynicism. I learned to extend grace to him after his death.
I continue to draw on what I learned from my brother-in-law, Benny, and my Greenville Dad, Vernon. I treasure the clear examples of how to love and how to lead in each of their lives. Everybody needs examples like these. These father-figures gave me a practical and relational understanding of my Heavenly Father.