My Pop

February is Black History month and the month of love. In keeping with the twist, I introduced last year I want to continue giving some brotherly love to some men who influenced my journey. I want to begin with my father, my “Pop”, Walter Peeler. We only shared a few years together but in retrospect I believe I got the best he could give before God called him home. I was nineteen and away at college when he passed. The last three years were our best. I began to listen to him and not judge him. Up until I was sixteen I seemed to always be at odds with this man who talked in metaphoric circles. I began to sit still and take notice to the life he wished he had and the life he wished for me. I finally understood that it was not rants and waves that I was being engulfed with but his heart. A heart filled with the hope of me being a good man, a better man. He frustrated me at times because he never would give me a straight answer. It was usually a question for a question. He required me to think before answering his question. He passed away suddenly but it was as if he squeezed all of him into all of me in those three years. I wonder if he knew? I was his Timothy and he was my Paul. Proverbs 27:17 says iron sharpens iron. Is anything too hard for God?