There’s a story my mom loves to bring out every once. It’s one of those stories that, when you’re in high school or college, you simply cringe in embarrassment but as life goes on you enjoy the laugh and then draw out one of your own. I don’t actually remember ALL the details, I just recall that I was outside playing with the hose and, since we were in Kansas City, I was younger than four years. I’m not sure if I wasn’t supposed to be playing with it, or was simply being cautioned, but I spun around with it in my hand when my father’s voice came to me regarding the water and I ended up spraying him thoroughly. It was an innocent, childhood mistake – I was turning towards his voice and the water in the hose in my hand came with me. Unfortunately he had just arrived home from work and was dressed in one of his business suits and I had a full spraying stream going as I whirled to greet him. Dark suit ... white pressed shirt ... dark tie ... wing tip shoes ... soaked.
Yep. Laughter is had on that one. Now.
My poor Daddy.
The good Lord blessed him with an extraordinary amount of patience, for which I am abundantly grateful.
Although I know he will be embarrassed and will most likely tell my mother that I “shouldn’t have”, I’m gonna tell a little bit about the type of man I call Father.
My dad is hamburgers & steaks grilled just right … driving the boat around “just one more” cove before heading back … calm voice when teaching to drive a car … Saturday late night movies with Clint Eastwood, Lee Marvin, Lee Van Cleef, or maybe just The Duke … pancakes and maple syrup vying with a simple box of donuts for being the best breakfast ever … standing outside on the front step of Grandma’s trailer watching a tornado pass by … saving a small girl from a bunch of loose pigs (not the small cute kind) … holding a little girl up on his shoulders to see the Macy’s parade … cheering or groaning for his Dallas Cowboys … playing Santa for a company children’s party … mowing the yard … playing in the pool … sitting at the counter and letting me tease & pick on him … finishing a task begun – no matter how detailed or time consuming.
Most of all, my daddy is wrapping me in a huge hug when I hurt, am sad, just arrived for a visit, fixing to leave after a visit, or just any other reason he can think of ... being married to, and loving, one woman for 53 years … reading Luke Chapter 2 before bedtime on Christmas Eve … praying so fully before each meal at the table … spending each week studying/preparing his Sunday School lesson … standing tall and proud as he joins the other deacons in serving the Lord’s Supper … a Godly man, the head of our household, following Joshua 24:15.
Today, on this special day when we honor our Fathers, I don’t get to physically be with my Daddy – to hug him and tell him how much I love and adore him, how he is the tape measure I use when looking at men and relationships, how much he is admired, how much I miss being with him on his special day.
That is why I wanted to just take a minute and tell you a bit about the man I call Father.
Happy Father’s Day, Daddy! I love you!