Sometimes the best advice doesn't come from a book, a microphone, from behind a desk in Washington or even from the people who are the leaders in their fields. Sometimes the best life lessons are found deep in the roots of where we came from. My father passed away years ago, but I always remember the lessons he taught me. Three of them particularly shape my perspective day after day.  The first one is that little things make big things happen. To the best of my memory, when I was young, we needed to build a new shed. Those were the days when stores like Home Depot and Lowes didn't exist. Brand-new timber   was expensive, so folks often reused the materials that others in the community didn't need. That summer, Dad and I used the boards from an old abandoned barn. We pulled them down one by one, drew the nails out and took off the tin and straightened it in order to reuse it. We got our supplies back to our yard and got to work. I don't know how much of a help I really was, but I chose to stay beside Dad the entire period, working along with him. The sun was hot that day, and sweat formed and ran down our faces. I stood there and handed him the nails one by one, which were hammered into that shed. Dad made me feel proud of my work. Even though I just handed him the nails, he repeatedly emphasized how we built the new shed "together". He taught me that when you're willing to do hard work, even in little things, big things come together. The second one is that we should honor our promises. As a young man, my father always carried a pocket-sized Bible in his chest pocket. Shortly before the invasion of Normandy in 1944, he prayed for God's protection and promised God that if he made it home, he would make sure his family attended church every Sunday. Well, he made it home and he kept that promise. I cannot remember a Sunday when Dad did not take my mother, my siblings and me to church -- even when we were away on vacation. I now have my Dad's pocket Bible. It is one of my most treasured possessions, and it serves as a constant reminder of my dad's service to his country. However, it also serves as a visual representation of my dad's firm determination to keep his promises. Today, I place great value on my family and my faith, undoubtedly because of my dad's example. This lesson of promise has been introduced into all areas of my life.  The third one is that listening is a way to acquire wisdom. My dad and I kept ourselves busy doing a lot of things together. During the nights of late summer, after dinner, the whole family would gather on our small porch to talk as the sun went down. Sometimes an aunt or uncle would drop by, and at other times my grandparents would be there. They would talk about the neighborhood news, the goings-on in modern Western society and politics -- mostly ordinary things, but it was good to sit there listening and to be together. Moreover, sitting there on the porch as dusk faded into night, I learned the value of listening and observing. Sometimes taking a moment to pause gives us the best perspective and sometimes we find the best answers simply by listening. Life in America becomes more complex. However, I like to think back to the simple lessons I learned from my father. They were the building blocks of my character and the values that still guide me today. Perhaps someone who has influence on your life taught you life lessons that helped form your character. I'm convinced that our nation could gain a lot by applying these lessons today. If we did, I think we would be reminded that the reason why our nation has become great is not merely that we have had wise leaders or well-spoken elected officials. Our nation has become great because of those ordinary Americans like my father, who have pride in their work, place great value on honesty, character and commitments, and pass those lessons on to their children and grandchildren. And that is the reason why we are still great today. How did the author feel when working with his father?
Happy and proud. Tired but excited. Nervous and unhelpful. Sad and discouraged.