This hero may be dying, but is very much alive

World Race leader, Scott Molgard, is a former body builder, a man’s man. In two days he leaves for Mexico for a year’s journey around the world. Here he reflects on one of his heroes.

One of my heroes is my dad, but the hero I want to mention is Ken Ings.

Ken is the father of my best man, John, but before John and I ever become friends, Ken had assumed the role of a father to many boys in our church and our community. Ken is also the only man I know who has played this type of role for anyone.

Ken led the Christian Service Brigade in our church. This is a ministry where men teach boys how to be men.

I remember Ken holding down the kid we thought was the toughest guy around and really being impressed, because this kid was heading off to the Special Forces, if my memory serves me.

Ken taught us how to use knives, axes, and guns. He would bring us to the shooting range a couple times a month, to shoot at targets with .22’s. He taught me that I was left eye dominant, and after that I got really good. Ken would bring us camping, he taught us how to cook over a fire. He brought us canoeing and fishing. Ken taught us wood working, and leather working. He brought us on wild adventures.

In all of these lessons Ken was there and loved us. Unconditionally. Ken pushed us, wanting the best that we had to offer. I remember trying to memorize verses to get a badge and getting frustrated that Ken wouldn’t just pass me—I had to start over again because of one little mistake. Ken took God’s word seriously and taught us that also.

One winter weekend we went up to New England Frontier Camp in Lovell, ME, on Kezar Lake. We cleared trees to widen the road, and hiked in the snow. We stuffed ourselves and made the wood stove so hot it glowed orange, and warped the sides. We cut a hole in the ice on the lake. We all jumped in. It was so cold it sent one of my buddies running back to our lodge in just his boxers, swearing at the top of his lungs. The funniest part was he ran right through a church youth group on a ski retreat, really raising some eye-brows. When Ken jumped in, he just turned into a statue. That scared the snot out of us, because Ken was 7 years into his 15 year battle with Parkinson’s, and we thought we were going to have to rescue him, but he fought out of it, what a great day.

Ken was there the day I dived off a nasty cliff into Emerald Pool on Bald Face mountain. I was the life guard for our group, and had jumped into this small pool many times. There is one rock I had always wanted to jump off, but the pool was too shallow. This day was different. There had been so much rain that the pool had to be at least 13 feet deep at its deepest. So we jumped off the forbidden rock. While standing on this rock, you can’t even see the pool, because there is a ledge you have to jump over which blocks the view. That first jump was a beauty. Dead center in the pool, my feet never touched bottom. So I decided to dive.

With a huge audience, I jumped off the cliff and soared, chest out in a swan dive, which felt absolutely amazing. In the air, I could see I had misjudged my dive slightly, and shot through the water and saw a white flash. I felt the numbness in my body, and fought for consciousness under the cold emerald pool. I fought my way to the top, so scared, I could barely stand once I got to the side. I tried to pretend nothing happened, I didn’t want to panic anyone, but I could see it in their faces. I was headed to the hospital, riding in the old station wagon with Dan Berger. I would receive 5 stitches over my eye, and had a bit of a concussion. I am so glad Ken was there to see that dive, to see I was still an idiot, to push the flap out of my eye and tell me I would be OK, that he loved me. And I felt awful, because now instead of helping Ken down the mountain, I was going to need help myself.

I think that is the last real adventure we have had. What a great memory.

As I type this, Ken is in bed. He needs help with just breathing. He is ready to go home to our Lord. I will finish this, then go give him a hug. Not knowing if this will be my last time. Last time I visited, I dropped off the book “Endurance,” about Shackleton. Ken had just listened to the book on tape, and I wanted him to see the pictures. Ken said “quite an adventure.”

Now, I have to confess guilt. Ken was always there for me. I haven’t returned the favor. I have avoided seeing him, have been ‘too busy’. The emotions have been so hard. Ken forgave me. He has always forgiven us, his boys.

So, Ken I need to thank you. Thank you for the adventure, the patience, the teaching. I promise to continue the adventure, to pass on the legacy you have handed me. To make you proud. You are a true hero.

Read more on Scott’s blog.