Wednesday, March 29, 2017
all about my dad
Happy 86th birthday to my sweet Daddy. Ever since the boys were all little, we have spent almost every single Friday afternoon together. For years and years now, since Jonah and Noah were about three years old, he would come over on Friday at noon, we would go to lunch, and sometimes we would come here and talk for the rest of the day, or sometimes we'd go to the zoo or somewhere else fun. I am so thankful for all these years that we've had doing this with him. Because of all that time spent together, I know someday when they have kids of their own, they will have wonderful memories with this dear man.
I think I've always been a daddy's girl. I vividly remember him helping me out with my tree climbing skills, teaching me how to spiral a football pass (which I can no longer do), and our many trips that we took together, sometimes with other family members, sometimes with just the two of us. When I was a teenager, he was the one who taught me how to drive. I learned to drive with a lead foot. He used to have this old pickup truck that I loved to drive. I learned to drive at a young age, on his property, thanks to all the riding mowers, tractors, and other fun vehicles he had. I inherited my love of driving and of cars from him.
He also had this amazing Trans Am convertible that was bright red with a black top. There were TWO of these in the city of Memphis, and he had one. About a week after he got it, it was stolen, stripped, and when they found it, in very sad condition. It was repaired and we were happy when he got it back. I would love to say I learned to drive in that car, but I did not. We took it on a road trip to North Carolina one time to go see my sister, and I remember him getting a ticket and us being caught with the top down in torrential rain. By the time I started driving, he had traded this in on a Honda Accord with a manual transmission. (Thanks, Dad.) I hated that Accord, and I did learn to drive on the stick shift, but I was never fully confident. I remember seeing a stop light ahead and flooring it and saying, "Hold on!" because no way was I stopping on that hill and risking rolling backwards and stalling.
That was one of the handful of times he raised his voice to me.
And though Mom and Dad were divorced when I was very young, we only lived about a mile apart, and every single morning, Dad would come pick me up and take me to school. Those times together in his car were priceless. Sometimes we would talk, sometimes we would listen to praise and worship music together and sing for all the world to hear. (Dad has a great voice.) That was making the most of our time together, and incredibly smart thinking on his part. My first school was about five or ten minutes away, and my second school (ECS) was almost thirty minutes away. That was good, quality time together every single day. Plus this way, he saw me all seven days of the week. As it was, I spent all my weekends at his house. He would pick me up on Friday after he got off work, and would drop me back off on Sunday night after church.
As we've gotten older, our relationship has changed into us loving Jesus and talking about all the things we're learning about Him and about the word of God. I am so very fortunate for this legacy he has passed on in our family, and I thank God for him. When I need prayer, he will stop and pray. When I'm excited, he is excited with me. When I'm sad, he will let me cry and come and put his arms around me and hug me and pray for me.
I doubt you're reading this, Dad, but in case you are, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I love you so much.
And to you, thanks for reading all about my dad. Love to all.
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