Daddy's Girls

And so…this blog was supposed to be posted just before Father’s Day. It didn’t make it. I’ve been struggling lately to move beyond the place of inspiration where one must sit still and listen for the substance that follows. I’m doing my best now, in this moment, to finish what I believe the Lord began…

Isn’t it funny how we just go about our days moving from one experience to another. We enjoy one event and endure the next. Then, without warning, your mind allows you to see how those experiences all come together to form a beautiful picture. That happened to me recently.

I had a birthday earlier this summer and my Dad surprised me by coming over to celebrate with me. He called me to throw me off, then showed up on my door step shortly after, and we chatted the afternoon away. The gift he gave me was so typical of him. You see, several weeks ago I became obsessed with the watermelon tea served at Twisted Root Burger Co. & Cowboy Chow, in Roanoke, TX. I made a comment on Facebook about wishing I had one of those crazy hard hats, with cup holders and straws on the side like you see frat boys use in the movies…only mine would be filled with watermelon tea. I have searched for and purchased several watermelon syrups trying to make the tea at home. I called Twisted Root to find out what kind of syrup they use and asked if I could purchase the tea itself. I was told “no“. So my Daddy’s gift to me was a crazy yellow hard hat with cup holders and straws AND a gallon of watermelon tea from Twisted Root!!! Yes, he is that thoughtful, persistent and determined (just ask the people at Twisted Root next time you see them).

I was surprised by his visit, but not that he would go to such trouble for me. That life long pattern began 45 years ago when he air conditioned our home in hot, humid, north Louisiana just days after I was brought home from the hospital and developed a heat rash. It continued on my 10th birthday when he took me to the Barn Dinner Theater to see a play called “Here Lies Jeremy Troy”. I have no idea what that play was about, but I remember the floral organza dress I wore, complete with knee socks and patten leather shoes. I remember being embarrassed and thrilled when the company of actors sang “Happy Birthday” to me. I remember being treated like a lady and deciding, right then, to never accept anything less. In high school, just before graduation, I found a card in my 1974 Maverick containing a one dollar bill and a note that said “This amount will double every day until your last day of high school“. Word spread quickly, and when the final bell rang at the end of the day, a crowd gathered around that old car to see where the cash was hidden. My guess is, he was hiding somewhere nearby to see what my response was. While I was in college, Dad came over one night to take me out for dinner to eat ‘real’ food and brought with him a beautiful pearl necklace. I could continue recounting story after story of special things he has done for me over the years…making sure I had a plate rack on my vent hood in the kitchen of our first home, ice tongs for a paper towel rack, being with me when each of our boys was born, driving my terminally ill father-in-law to Houston and hours of priceless conversation.

Later in the week, I attended a wedding and was fascinated as I watched another strong, fearless Daddy crumble because of the love he felt for his daughter. He tearfully gave away his greatest possession. At the reception, as the special dances took place following the Daddy/daughter dance, they stood to the side of the dance floor casually holding hands. She would stretch far away to talk to a friend and he held tight. Occasionally she would let go to hug someone but she always came back to his side and reached for his hand. When all the special dances were over, she threw her hands above her head and ran to the center of the dance floor to celebrate with her friends. He watched with a huge smile on his face as he shook his head, chuckled at her exuberance and reached for the hand of her mother.

It was one of those moments in time when the celebration and dance- inducing music faded into the background because my God was whispering to me as I watched them. He was reminding me that Daddy’s girls know their Dads like no one else. We have a piece of their hearts that no one else will ever have and because of that, we find it easy to believe in the unconditional love of our heavenly Father.

When my Dad ‘counted my ribs’ (tickled me) he was teaching me that my heavenly Father loves the sound of my laughter and wants me to know indescribable joy. The watermelon tea he brought me reminded me that God listens and wants to provide the simplest desires of my heart. The countless times my Dad has blessed me with a gift that I didn’t ask for, tells me that there are countless blessings in heaven for me, just waiting for me to ask for them. When my Dad drove my Father-in-law to Houston to begin cancer treatment he was showing me that my God would always take care of the big, scary things in life that seemed insurmountable to me and that the love I have for my family is nothing compared to His love for them. The hours of priceless conversation is a beautiful reminder that Jesus wants us to have special time together in which we both share what we have on our hearts.

Watching the “Father of the bride” reminded me that my heavenly Father will always be there to hold my hand, to dance with me and to watch as I celebrate life with my friends. He is always the same…dependable, strong, sure, mighty…even if I slip away for a bit, I can always return and take his hand.

Family relationships are often complicated and at times difficult. My relationship with my Dad has not been perfect, because we are not perfect. We choose to believe in each other and love each other…no matter what. No doubt there are people who do not have the kind of relationship with their Dad that I have described. The good news is that this love that covers, comforts, calms, provides, protects, forgives, and secures is equally available to all who choose to have a relationship with Jesus. All you have to do is tell Him that you want him to know Him personally. And before you know it, whether you’ve ever seen yourself this way or not, you can be a ‘Daddy’s girl’ too!