In honor of Father's Day this weekend, I thought I would share some fun pics of the first man I ever loved...the man who I always proudly said I was his Daddy's girl!
I'm the little peanut baby in the Easter bonnet. That's my big brother in the sissy-boy jumper. (Little sisters never give up, do they??) That tall, distinguished man is my daddy.
From the moment I can remember, I loved calling myself, "Daddy's girl." I was so proud to be his daughter. I can remember getting to go on Rounds with him at the hospital, and even as a small girl, realizing how much his patients and nurses respected and loved him. I liked the way everywhere we went, people stopped to talk to him. I always felt secure with his great big hand wrapped around my small one.
Growing up, even in the difficult teen years, I always understood how wise my daddy was. Plus, I saw him walk out a faith he taught and preached. There was no double-standard for him--he was the same man at home as he was in public. Even though our phone rang constantly (and before Caller ID there was no screening of calls for a doctor's family), and we never got to eat a meal in public without getting interrupted with a "quick question for the Doc," I was proud to have a dad so loved and sought after for advice.
Plus, he was just so FUN to be around. He could get our entire family laughing so hard we would be doubled-over, with tears streaming down our faces. I know that my brother, sister, and I all inherited our love of a practical joke from our dad. We still laugh about the big toe he brought home from the hospital in a little ring box. He brought it out at dinner time, telling my mom he'd brought home something interesting from work. When he opened the box, and she saw the toe inside, with red gauze surrounding it, you should have heard her! She started backing away from him, telling him he had finally lost it, and bringing that toe home surely was breaking some kind of law!! Finally, my dad cracked his great big smile, and then we kids couldn't wait to get our hands on the real-looking plastic toe!
My dad is our family's storyteller. I can't tell you the hours our family has sat around the dinner table, listening to the old stories of his youth. The characters of his childhood are as real to me as members of my family. Brother Mose and Sister Bobby, Robert Earl and Eric, Hunkaby and Billy Bob Willingham, and even little Judy, the sweet fluffy chick that became a mean old rooster. Even typing out these names, I am reminded of dozens of stories about each of these characters...Stories brought back to life each time my dad gets that twinkle in his eye and says, "Did I tell you about the time..."
Even though I'm grown now, I still look to my dad for wisdom. And, he's still ready to give it! Just last week he told me he was acting as the Holy Spirit for me, and I really needed to heed his advice!!
Almost as good as being Daddy's girl, I LOVE seeing my dad with his grandchildren. I love that they are learning the old stories and meeting the old characters that I have grown to love so much.
I love that our kids are getting to learn from him, and watch him walk out his faith.
And get to experience his practical jokes...Oh how my dad loves these pictures of Rebecca, when for a whole year (much to her mother's frustration) between years 2 and 3, she posed for pictures with 1 eye closed--because her Pops kept encouraging her to! Sometimes he still calls her, "Ole One Eye." I love that each grandchild has his/her own special jokes with Pops, those special stories that just the two of them share!
It sure makes me smile to see my own girls feeling every bit as loved and cherished by their Pops, as I do by my Daddy...
And, in remembrance of those homemade Father's Day cards so long ago...
Tune in tomorrow, when I will share some pics and sing the praises of my girls' Baby Daddy!!!
