Strength, courage, determination, discipline …
This idiom that is dear to my heart. I hold it close, just as I hold the memory of Wade’s (my husband’s) father, who I also knew as “Dad.”
This is an idiom that sparks thoughts of strength, that inspires strength — and even courage. It describes a determination and a discipline that is not always common these days. It is an imperative that is confident in its expectation of fulfillment; after all, you don’t issue an imperative unless you believe that it can and will be done. And, on the receiving end of the imperative, there is an unwillingness to yield when asked to “hold the line” — a line, no doubt, that was often held during military operations and that called on every fibre of a soldier’s being. In that imperative was conveyed an unwavering sense of duty and even honour.
And still, to this day, I am sure it is heard above the noise and stress of life-determining situations when every ounce of courage, every ounce of bravery and determination, is being summoned. Hold the line. I can almost see it etched on the faces of soldiers or in the expressions of firefighters. It’s an imperative we don’t often hear; in fact, we are more likely to hear the imperative to run, which is not always a bad thing. It requires discernment to know when it is time to hold the line or time to let it go.
This idiom that is dear to my heart. I hold it close, just as I hold the memory of Wade’s (my husband’s) father, who I also knew as “Dad.”
Wade’s dad embodied what I had always believed a dad could be. And he never disappointed that belief. So, not a Father’s Day goes by when my heart doesn’t remember Forest Lewis Holmes from Clan Buchanan in Scotland — Dad.
So what, I’m sure you’re wondering, does this have to do with Hold the line.
Several years ago I heard the band A Girl Named Tom singing Jimmy Webb’s “Wichita Lineman,” famously sung by Glen Campbell, and I knew exactly the type of man they were singing about. They were singing about Forest Lewis Holmes, a man with hold-the-line dedication to his loved ones—and, if I may (seeing as it is so close to Father’s Day), the same kind of dedication I have witnessed in the lives of his sons and in our son. It’s a song about an “ordinary” man who is living an extraordinary life in the eyes of his loved ones.
And since it is close to Father’s Day, I would like to dedicate this column to fathers, including those who may not have children of their own but who father and mentor as they live what they may believe to be just ordinary lives. You are not ordinary; at least, not in the eyes of those who watch you, who walk with you, and who work and play with you. Not ordinary at all. You hold the line for so many. And you, in turn, are calling them to hold the line, too.
Thank you, Dad, for holding the line and for encouraging me to hold it in so many ways in my life. I will never forget you.
In case you’d like to hear the song, search “A Girl Named Tom – Wichita Lineman” on YouTube. Perhaps you could share it with someone who is “holding the line” in your life.
