My father is the best man I know.
I’ve been thinking about a phone call from him the other day and I don’t know if he’ll ever know what it means to me.
“I’ve just been missing you, Trace. It just keeps crossing my mind that I’d just give about anything to hop on a plane and just be with you. I would love to just show up, just for the weekend and just…just take you to dinner.”
I smiled. He always calls on FaceTime because he wants to see me, not just hear me.
“And then we could just, I don’t know, hang out. I’ve just really been missing you.”
Healing words for his daughter’s soul. It’s amazing how my dad never gets tired of “pursuing” his daughter. All my life he’s taken the time to be with me and do life with me.
I remember when I was little I was "acting out" one day. I couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6 years old. And my dad called me out on what I was doing (something that I was to get used to...).
“Traci, if you need attention you do not do that. You tell me. That is not the way to get attention.”
I remember wondering how he knew that’s why I was doing what I was doing when I didn’t even realize it. But I remember knowing he was right, too. Dad knew everything.
And then I remember putting him to my 6-year-old-little-girl test shortly thereafter. I remember (again, subconsciously) waiting until he was reading or clearly doing something else and crawling up into his lap and taking his face in my two little hands and saying, “Daddy, I need some attention.”
My daddy passed my little girl test with flying colors. He laughed, put everything aside, and played with me. I remember this happening more than once. He never disappointed.
My sisters and I would take turns with my tea set having tea party dates with our dad. That man had 5 children, and somehow managed to have time for all his daughters individually. All of us remember those dates: the dresses, the preparation—Mom helping us with the stressful “menu.” It had to be perfect, of course. As perfect as peanut butter and jelly sandwiches could possibly be.
My father is the one that taught me so many things, but there’s not a day that goes by that the core of me doesn’t recognize that I would not be the woman I am today if not for his willingness to love this strong personality so interminably and sacrificially.
It was my father that took me to task on all of my mouth-running, disrespectful speech all throughout growing up. It was dad that taught me that that my strong personality, really the depth that I was talking about yesterday, is a gift, but a gift to be wielded wisely and to be channeled the right direction by the right Person. I can’t imagine the bulldozing person I’d be today if he hadn't done right by me in teaching where to take my personhood to be molded and shaped (and if he didn’t do some of it himself).
“Traci, do you want to try saying that again?”
“No.” My adolescent attitude would spit out. I mean, he asked the question--to my teenage mind he should have been prepared for the honest answer. “But I will.” (Eye-roll, head cocked, probably arms folded.)
Oh man. I would not have wanted to raise me.
He taught me so many other things too. Everything practical, be it emotionally practical or just logistically practical. Dad made sure I knew how to change the oil in my car. He made me do my own legwork on everything. He taught me how to make the phone call myself, and not expect people to do things for me. He gave the skills I needed to know what it meant to work hard--and that being a girl wasn't an excuse to not learn how to roof, lay carpet, etc. He also didn’t slack on teaching us how to play hard, and remember to live in the moment--when it's right. (Adventure, adventure, adventure.)
But even as a little girl through his constant patient answers to my favorite little supplication: “why, Daddy?” he was teaching me that to always ask the question "why?" is not a bad thing: it is paramount to be well reasoned. Beyond that though, I also began to understand from a young age that the question "why?" doesn't always have a satisfactory answer. And it's a matter of integrity how you handle that reality. More than through just his words my dad showed me that loving God is a lifestyle, not just a choice you make once. And watching my dad read about any and everything (including an entire book on salt--that now I actually kind of want to read) inspired me to NEVER STOP LEARNING.
But eventually, through all of this and more he taught be how to be unselfish, though I still fail so often. It was my father that taught me how to love people: how to pursue them, not just to learn from them, but to invest in them too.
And that is still what he does for me, his daughter. He pursues and loves me so effectively that I can never, never forget. And I thank God I’ll never, never know what kind of woman I’d be without all that he’s put into me all my life.
I really hope he can find a cheap flight one of these days. :)
(Day 21)
I’ve been thinking about a phone call from him the other day and I don’t know if he’ll ever know what it means to me.
“I’ve just been missing you, Trace. It just keeps crossing my mind that I’d just give about anything to hop on a plane and just be with you. I would love to just show up, just for the weekend and just…just take you to dinner.”
I smiled. He always calls on FaceTime because he wants to see me, not just hear me.
“And then we could just, I don’t know, hang out. I’ve just really been missing you.”
Healing words for his daughter’s soul. It’s amazing how my dad never gets tired of “pursuing” his daughter. All my life he’s taken the time to be with me and do life with me.
I remember when I was little I was "acting out" one day. I couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6 years old. And my dad called me out on what I was doing (something that I was to get used to...).
“Traci, if you need attention you do not do that. You tell me. That is not the way to get attention.”
I remember wondering how he knew that’s why I was doing what I was doing when I didn’t even realize it. But I remember knowing he was right, too. Dad knew everything.
And then I remember putting him to my 6-year-old-little-girl test shortly thereafter. I remember (again, subconsciously) waiting until he was reading or clearly doing something else and crawling up into his lap and taking his face in my two little hands and saying, “Daddy, I need some attention.”
My daddy passed my little girl test with flying colors. He laughed, put everything aside, and played with me. I remember this happening more than once. He never disappointed.
My sisters and I would take turns with my tea set having tea party dates with our dad. That man had 5 children, and somehow managed to have time for all his daughters individually. All of us remember those dates: the dresses, the preparation—Mom helping us with the stressful “menu.” It had to be perfect, of course. As perfect as peanut butter and jelly sandwiches could possibly be.
My father is the one that taught me so many things, but there’s not a day that goes by that the core of me doesn’t recognize that I would not be the woman I am today if not for his willingness to love this strong personality so interminably and sacrificially.
It was my father that took me to task on all of my mouth-running, disrespectful speech all throughout growing up. It was dad that taught me that that my strong personality, really the depth that I was talking about yesterday, is a gift, but a gift to be wielded wisely and to be channeled the right direction by the right Person. I can’t imagine the bulldozing person I’d be today if he hadn't done right by me in teaching where to take my personhood to be molded and shaped (and if he didn’t do some of it himself).
“Traci, do you want to try saying that again?”
“No.” My adolescent attitude would spit out. I mean, he asked the question--to my teenage mind he should have been prepared for the honest answer. “But I will.” (Eye-roll, head cocked, probably arms folded.)
Oh man. I would not have wanted to raise me.
He taught me so many other things too. Everything practical, be it emotionally practical or just logistically practical. Dad made sure I knew how to change the oil in my car. He made me do my own legwork on everything. He taught me how to make the phone call myself, and not expect people to do things for me. He gave the skills I needed to know what it meant to work hard--and that being a girl wasn't an excuse to not learn how to roof, lay carpet, etc. He also didn’t slack on teaching us how to play hard, and remember to live in the moment--when it's right. (Adventure, adventure, adventure.)
But even as a little girl through his constant patient answers to my favorite little supplication: “why, Daddy?” he was teaching me that to always ask the question "why?" is not a bad thing: it is paramount to be well reasoned. Beyond that though, I also began to understand from a young age that the question "why?" doesn't always have a satisfactory answer. And it's a matter of integrity how you handle that reality. More than through just his words my dad showed me that loving God is a lifestyle, not just a choice you make once. And watching my dad read about any and everything (including an entire book on salt--that now I actually kind of want to read) inspired me to NEVER STOP LEARNING.
But eventually, through all of this and more he taught be how to be unselfish, though I still fail so often. It was my father that taught me how to love people: how to pursue them, not just to learn from them, but to invest in them too.
And that is still what he does for me, his daughter. He pursues and loves me so effectively that I can never, never forget. And I thank God I’ll never, never know what kind of woman I’d be without all that he’s put into me all my life.
I really hope he can find a cheap flight one of these days. :)
(Day 21)
No comments:
Post a Comment