I grew up a Daddy’s girl. There were some years in there when I was a stupid, rebellious teenager and my Dad thankfully disciplined me. I look back now so grateful that he loved me enough to teach me right and wrong.. What it means to be a lady.. To rethink that outfit. I see now that parental love steps in and doesn’t just stand by unwilling to say no. It is there every step, loving, guiding, teaching, laughing, playing, disciplining.
When I was little, he let me brush his hair and put my ribbons and bows in it. Haha. I don’t have sisters (three brothers), but thank goodness for Dad and his beautiful head of hair. He taught me how to throw a baseball and a football… better than my brothers and my husband. Yup! He happily danced with me at cotillion and in the living room, and came to every Father-Daughter day in Daisies, Brownies and Girl Scouts. He taught me how to change a tire… I still called him crying the first time I got stranded with a flat. When boys would call our house in high school, he would screen them and get a total kick out of it. “You want to talk to my daughter?!! WHO IS THIS?” as he’d look at me across the room, grinning. “Don’t you ever call my daughter again.” “You didn’t really like him anyways, right, Mand?” He left me notes, bought me flowers, made me feel so loved. He set the bar high. Until I met Cam, he was the man in my life. He taught me (and teaches me) not to worry, to stick with my Savior (John 15), to drink wine and live fully and adventurously, covered in Christ’s grace.
Not every little girl gets to grow up with a Father, especially one who is present, loving and devoted to pouring his life into hers. I am so thankful for you, Daddio. And so thankful for you, Pops. My husband is the amazing man he is today in great part because of you.
Happy Father’s Day!
PS. Great advice from my Daddio here!
