Photo and Commentary ©2026 by Shelley Schurch
Sunday, June 14, 2026
We’re going to miss them. That’s because we live several blocks away from where they’ve been working. Our neighbors who live in the midst of this massive work project, with its noise and inconveniences, are looking forward to the workers’ departure. Grateful for their work (replacing all the deteriorating water pipes beneath neighborhood streets), but eager for it to be accomplished.
But we’ll miss them because it’s been both educational and entertaining to watch them at work. We’ve adjusted the route of our twice-daily walks so we can get a close view each day of their progress, while being respectful and careful not to get in their way.
Noticing our obvious interest, the co-owner of the company who won the bid for this project stopped one morning, climbed down from his truck, and explained the whole project in detail.
This past week they scraped out two inches of pavement on several streets and poured in new pavement. The photo you see above shows about half the equipment at work that day; the paving was happening out of sight around the bend, and involved machinery we’ve never seen before.
As fascinated as I’ve been with this project, I know who would have loved watching it even more: my father. He would have lingered longer and asked more questions and made more comments. I chuckle as I picture him standing there, hands in his pockets, smiling and talking away.
And then I have to chuckle a second time because I realize, I am my father’s daughter. I’ve inherited from him the sometimes challenging combination of shyness and a love for talking with people.
With Father’s Day on the near horizon, I’ve been thinking about what else he and I hold in common. I’ve enjoyed compiling a partial list:
We shared a love of words, puzzles, picnics, children, gardening, stories, family, dogs, reading, laughter, beaches, curiosity, taking photos, and my mother’s apple pie.
We also shared a family resemblance, what my mother described as, “You have your father’s broad face.” I remember wailing as a child, “But I don’t want a fat face!” My mother would gently correct me, “It’s not fat, dear. It’s broad.” I was not comforted.
I thought of this many years later when I attended an aunt’s memorial service. Relatives came from states away, so it became a mini-reunion. I grew up in Alaska; most of my father’s siblings and their families lived in his home state of Nevada, and our paths had seldom crossed.
After the service my Uncle Paul approached me with a big grin. He exclaimed, “As soon as I saw you, I knew who you were – you look just like your father!”
I wasn’t sure how to take this. I was in my mid-thirties then, and when I woke up and got ready for the day I was not aiming to look like a seventy-five year old man! But Uncle Paul seemed so happy about this resemblance that I couldn’t help but join in his enjoyment.
When I get to musing, my mind often shifts to the Bible, to those stories oft-told, or words Jesus said. You can probably guess how my uncle’s words stirred my mind – “You look just like your father!”
Remember when Philip said:
“Lord, show us the Father and that will be enough for us.” Jesus answered: “Don’t you know me, Philip, even after I have been among you such a long time? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father. (John 14:8-9 NIV)
That is a close resemblance! And one I have long appreciated. When I wonder what God is like, I only have to look at Jesus. Son of God, He looked just like His Father. Their character is one and the same.
Here’s where my musing gets serious: How about my character? Is there any family resemblance to my Father?
Today is Flag Day, and again I picture my father. Whenever a flag marched by in parade, he was quick to stand to attention, hand on his heart. Because he taught me, I do the same, now with the prickle of tears in my eyes – a love for my country mingled with homesickness for my father.
My Heavenly Father understands all this, collects my tears, and gently reminds me of heaven ahead, where all tears will be wiped away, and reunions will be permanent.