Fifty years ago today we held the funeral for my dad and buried him at Wasatch Lawn Cemetery in Salt Lake City, Utah. It is January 16, 2010. He died January 14, 1960. I was 15 years old.
It is amazing to me that my dad's influence has shaped my life so with only 15 years to do so. As I reflect on my time with him I realize that almost all of his influence has come from his example. I don't remember my father attending any of my school or church activities. I'm sure there were some that involved him but that's not what I remember. In those days children's activities belonged to children. Parents were focused on providing for their families and, in my Dad's case, serving the Lord. Those were the two things I remember the most about my Dad.
He wasn't home a lot. Daily he was at work and many evenings left after dinner to fulfill church responsibilities. On Saturdays he manicured our yard with my brothers, then enjoyed the evening with the family, visiting friends or just sharing time together. On Sundays he headed for Priesthood and other meetings early in the morning. The rest of us joined him for Sunday School, then we all returned home for a sit down, dining room table, family Dinner. In the evening we returned to church for Sacrament Meeting. At the dinner table he led a discussion about the things we had learned in our individual classes. Some of my brothers were returned missionaries and, as the youngest, I mainly listened while great gospel discussions took place.
This was the true beginning of my own personal testimony. As I listened to the convictions of my dad and older brothers and their explanations of the gospel, the Spirit bore witness to me that it was true. I loved the Lord and I loved this opportunity to learn. I always knew that I had a loving Heavenly Father and prayer was an integral part of my life from a very young age. I trusted Him to be there for me whenever I was afraid, worried or had a special need and He never let me down. I'm sure that my trust in the Lord was influenced by the pure love that came from my father's humble spirit, and love, not just for me personally, but for everyone. I don't remember a lot of personal interactions with him, counsel or discussions one-on-one, but I was taught by who he was. His love radiated to everyone around him, regardless of status or circumstances. He was a friend to all.
My dad served in the Stake Presidency in the Park Stake in Salt Lake when I was very young, then as a Bishop in the Princeton Ward, called when I was 10. So, I often saw him honoring his Priesthood as he officiated in directing the Lord's work. I was always very proud of my father, not because he was a man of importance, but because he was so dearly loved by the people in the ward. Each felt his love, received of his service and learned from his counsel. He reached out to the one, visiting the widows, lonely and needy and assisting them. I often accompanied my parents in their regular visits to people who had emigrated from Holland where he served his mission. I still remember their humble circumstances. Our family also had limited resources, but I never felt deprived. Instead, I considered myself especially privileged because of the quality of my life. Material things were of little consequence to my parents. Their lives were totally focused on serving their family, friends, the needy and the Lord. It created a rich and satisfying environment of peace.
I am grateful beyond words for a father who loved the Lord and demonstrated that love through his service to others. His example is the greatest gift he could have given me. My children and grandchildren are so precious to me. I wish they could have had the privilege of knowing their Grandfather Hendrik Poelman in this life, but I know someday they each will be able to enjoy his love and influence. Considering the eternal nature of our exisitence, I'm sure somehow they already do.
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