My Life: #4 The Little Irish Boy.

Since my father suffered severe pressure to live up to the expectations of family and church members, he decided to enlist in the military at 17 years of age. Five years later, he was in a war.

THE LITTLE IRISH BOY

Charles L. Phinney: My father was born in Wakefield, Nebraska, in 1923 to Lauren and Bertha (McCargar/Chase) Phinney.  The bloodline lineage on my father’s side runs back to Plymouth & Newberry, Mass., and Cape Cod, Maryland.  In fact, my direct grandfather on my grandmother’s side, Aquila Chase, is listed on the town monument of Newberry as one of the founders.  The Chase family was considered one of the key families that helped establish America. A heritage I am honored to be a part of.

The name Phinney originally appeared in Gaelic (Celtic Highlands of Scotland) as “O Fiannaidhe.”  The name is an Irish description of “a strong soldier.”  When the clan moved into northern Ulster, the clan changed its name to “Finney,” which slowly evolved into “Phinney” due to the English grammatical language changes.  In the 15^th century, the Finney clan moved to Nottinghamshire, England, where our family tree is documented, starting with Jeffery Finney, who came over on the Mayflower in 1620.  Robert Finney, his son Jeffery, and their families resided in Plymouth, Mass.  Robert’s grandson, John Phinney Jr., had the name changed to match the English phonetic spelling Phinney in 1638.  The Phinneys were noted by John Quincy Adams in a historically documented letter as key founders of Cape Cod, Massachusetts. 

Some of these descendants ended up founding and establishing several communities in Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Maryland, Ohio, and Iowa, which is where my immediate family is from.

Early on, one of the Phinneys married into the Chase family, which became our other primary bloodline.  A few years ago, Jane (my wife) and I visited a community (Wear, New Hampshire) founded by one of our direct grandfathers, Amos Chase. We were welcomed by the town’s historical society and provided local documentation of much-needed connections for our family tree.

Adrian L. Phinney, my grandfather, was from a rich heritage of church reformers.  The Phinney roots are lodged in the Quaker faith.  My grandfather and his brothers were some of the active reformers of the Friends/Brethren branch of the Quakers.  He was born in Orange, Ohio, which is where most of my relatives ended up settling. 

Since my father suffered severe pressure to live up to the expectations of family and church members, he decided to enlist in the military at 17 years of age.  Five years later, he found himself in the midst of a world war.  During the war, he was assigned to a Special Forces battalion with the Paratroopers.  During this time, he earned many of the honors we, his children, treasure today.

My father was an honored “war hero” from World War II, even though he didn’t acknowledge such honors.  He spent 21 years in military service, which make up most of my childhood memories.  He spent most of his military career in the Strategic Air Command, oftentimes on missions that were mysterious and never spoken of.  During my lifetime, he was stationed at Lackland (San Antonio, TX), Wethersfield (England), Dow (Bangor, Maine), and Forbes (Topeka, KS) Air Force Base.

In 1951 while on one of his missions, he met & married my mother in St. John, Newfoundland.  Together they were blessed with six children. After holding military residence in Utah, Texas, England, Maine, and Kansas, the Phinney family settled in Linn Grove, Iowa, in 1968.

Due to the difficulties my father experienced growing up in the church as a preacher’s kid; he did not practice Christianity in our home.  As he himself joked, whatever the church told me not to do – I did.  This mindset put into motion years of ungodly living and a lifestyle that was opposite of what the church expected of him.  His lifestyle infected and affected each & every family member to one degree or another. 

I had a strange relationship with my father.  Even though he was quick to reject me and others, I looked up to him with great honor.  My mother told me I would follow him around like a little puppy.  She also told me of times I would sit by his side for hours. While other children would be out playing, I would faithfully stay at his side – whether it was in a discussion he was having or piddling in his electronics studio, watching him invent things.  In fact, rumor has it that my father invented the split needle for stereophonic music, which ultimately ended up with London Records.   Needless to say, I developed a great love for military politics, electronics, and inventing things – three of my favorite things to do to date. 

Loving Through Difficulties

I had this uncanny way of being able to withstand my father’s unmannerly behavior – even to the point of caring for him even when it appeared others wouldn’t.  Throughout most of my life at home, I would help him in any way I could, somehow trying to win his approval and affection.  Another unusual fact, even though most of the other siblings might not be able to say this, I have no memory of him hurting me outside of a handful of spankings.  I do have a truckload of memories of him hurting others, particularly my mother. This was all a result of suffering from PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Probably from all those “special missions.”  Years later, through tears, he confessed to me how many people he was required to “terminate.”  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing!  It broke my heart to realize how much pain and grief my father was carrying around inside him – day after day.  I still weep over this! 

After realizing that my father was a broken hero, my father’s pain became my mission.  I went into high gear to love on him any and every way that the Lord would reveal for me to do so – ultimately leading me to introduce him to the indwelling Life of Jesus Christ, his salvation before he died. 

In 2000, my father went on to be with the Lord.  On his deathbed, he requested that I be at his side when he passed from this life to the next – just like all those times when I was growing up.  While I had my hand on his chest, the Lord gave me a vision of my father standing before Jesus, not wanting to let go of human life.  I leaned over and whispered, it’s ok, Dad; you can let go, and the Lord will take care of us, and I will keep my promise to reconcile the family. With that, my father went to be with Jesus.

While at his grave, I jumped up, threw myself over his casket, and wept uncontrollably. Flooded with memories of what I will miss and what I will not.  With family members trying to comfort me, I knew nobody really understood how much I loved my father except for God.  I grew up calling him “father,” then “dad,” and by the time he passed – I called him “friend.”  He will always be my hero, broken or not.  He will forever be my father and dad.  And it is without question that God used his pain and grief to set my entire adult ministry into motion.

If you visited my office today, you would find a framed letter from a president, the sword he was wounded by, his burial flag and other memorabilia being displayed to show my beloved honor and respect for him.  Each & every time I look upon these treasures, it reminds me of the price he paid for my freedom, and his willingness to turn his heart back toward his roots – that of our beloved Jesus.

My most favored memory is when my mother and father celebrated their 40^th wedding anniversary; my brother arranged for the Army and Air Force to re-present each of his military citations, medals, and awards.  In full military protocol and honor, they presented my father with his honors.  My father responded to this surprise by standing at attention, receiving each metal, letter, and memorabilia of recognition, saluting each officer, and then began to weep.  I knew it was on this day that my father finally accepted that he truly was a war hero and, more significantly – that he was our hero. 

Despite all the painful stories my legacy entries will unfold, know this – only God knows how much I love & honor my father.  I thank the Lord often for all the pain and struggles that came with his journey!  Without them, I wouldn’t be doing what I am doing today. Thanks, Dad!