Daddy

You always told me you wanted a girl, twin girls actually.  My earliest memories were of you playing with my Bert and Ernie dolls, making them talk to me as we played tea party. You took me on nightly bike rides, pulled me on a sled in the snow, let me put ribbons in your hair. You were so involved, always there. I never doubted you loved me.

You taught me your calm in the face of the everyday battles; your sense of reason; your love of the simple things - a good beer, a funny joke, a silly dance, a warm hug. You also taught me not to settle for something less, to work hard, to be responsible and trustworthy. You have always been an example of stewardship and integrity to me. You are such a good man.

I often think of you telling me story after story of how you've marveled at the Lord and His works - the time you lost your precious dad's pen and you prayed hard and then instantly found it; the time you drove on the Blue Ridge Parkway by yourself and were brought to tears at the beauty of it all; when you heard God tell you to stick it out on something, even though you were so close to throwing in the towel. I think of those stories, those little miracles, and it makes me remember how much God loves me, how much he loves us all.

And I'll never forget how you've prayed every day for me and Matt to become parents. Each time you tell me that, it turns me into mush. You're too good to us Daddy.

There are times when I speak and I hear your voice in me. That makes me happy. My humor is yours as well. I also got your nose I think and maybe some of your common sense.  I think a lot of what is good in me is because of you.

I'm proud and blessed to be your daughter.  I love you to pieces. Happy Father's Day.

Just me and my dad