What My Father Did

What my father did for me is probably something that I will never fully grasp. The things he denied himself in order to provide for me and my brothers; The quiet restful evenings he could have had if he hadn’t engaged me in conversations based largely on the never-ending questions of a pre-schooler and in later years the endless haggling and gripping known fully well to parents of a teenage girl.

My Dad also gave me some things that I came to appreciate eventually, like long hikes in the mountains, and all the “drug” habits he forced on me. (Like the song-writer, my parents started me early on “drugs”. They drug me to Sunday morning and evening services. And they drug me to Wednesday night prayer meetings. And they drug me to funerals and weddings. They drug me to school.)

When I was eleven we moved to Las Cruces, NM. My father was a new catalytic missionary and he wanted to help Hermano Ernesto Prieto with the church he had started in La Mesa. We were the only two families attending this church … like forever! I cannot begin to describe to you how incredibly boring that was for a young girl with adventure on the brain. My life certainly didn’t read like the novels in the school library. (Although I’ll bet the novels were significantly tamer than they are nowadays.)

Fast forward to 2007 - my husband felt like God wanted us to move to New Mexico and here I am once again living in the Rio Grande valley under the shadow of the Organ Mountains which guard the city of Las Cruces.

A dear friend called me the other day to tell me that Ernesto Prieto had passed away. My mind flooded with all the sweet things that man did for me and my family. And I realized if it weren’t for my Dad, I never would have met Hermano Prieto. I never would’ve known an angel in real life. He was an angel along the lines of Gabriel or Michael. He was huge and powerful and passionately devoted to God. Even though at that young age, I thought he was a boring speaker, I was inspired by his life and his love for others and wanted to learn more about God and to have that same kind of passion for myself.

I called my Dad and thanked him for introducing me to the Giant, Ernesto Prieto. I believe that God uses our Dads to show us things about life, seemingly insignificant things, boring things, things we never would’ve looked for, but things that reveal God to us and open our eyes to the Giants among us. That's what our Father God does for us.

The Giant Named Ernesto Prieto

I was eleven years old
when my father introduced me to his friend
the Giant named Ernesto Prieto.

He was towering over me with that great big smile
and as I lifted my hand
two buckets of steel reached down and
held my hand tight.

His hand descended onto my shoulder
Eyes burned deep holes into my head
“Cristo te ama …
Jesus loves you!
… Me too!” he said,

His laughter rumbled
His voice rolled like thunder
The sky split open when he smiled

I can still hear that voice praying for me
Talking to his God like one friend to another
They carried on long conversations
… while I waited and listened
… trapped under the weight
of his hand on my head.

He spoke with confidence
Like he really knew
Someone was listening
and would answer him too.

His prayer was simple
Straight from his heart
“Cristo bendiga esta niña
y déja que su vida
estará dedicada a Tí.
… Jesus, … bless her,
make her life Yours!”

Although there was a gap
in my understanding … and his
He was a man who loved God with a passion
that could only be explained by
a Giant whose God was even greater than he!

He became my friend too,
The Giant Named Ernesto Prieto

by Audrey Wauson