D-A-D-S. (Repost from father's day 2011).

Reposted in honor of my brother's first father's day.
You're turning out to be a pretty good dad, kiddo! Keep it up.  Your precious daughter is learning more than you can imagine, every day. 

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Today is the day we celebrate Dads.

Deciders

Answer-givers  

Dragon-slayers

Supporters

I remember when I was a kid there was a rustic, burnt-wood sign in our family room (suspiciously near the corner where I spent quality time when I was being 'lippy'  that said, "Anyone can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a daddy." At the time I thought it was just a cute play on words. As I grew up, I learned the real significance of that cheesy plaque.

Dads are the guys who stick around.

I've learned that dads are the real men. The men who make the hard choices. The men who put the needs of their children ahead of their own wants. The men who work extra hours to buy barbies and bycicles and prom dresses. The men who listen to endless stories about strange children and stranger tv shows. The men who teach their children to catch a ball, to drive, and to dance.

The men who are there.

As frustrating as it is for moms, it seems to be dad's praise that kids crave most. It's generally dad's approval they seek. It's dad's time that is most precious.



Perhaps that's because (for most of us) mom's love is a given. She is there. She is constant. She bore us. It's too easy to take her for granted (I'm not saying we should, but this is Father's day). Deep down, we all know dad had a choice.

Whether they know it or not, whether they accept it or not, whether we accept it or not, our dads represent our first impression of God, our heavenly Father.

Is it any wonder that some people turn from God, when their own fathers turn from them? That they fear God, when their own fathers hurt them? That they cannot trust God, because their own fathers betrayed them? This note is not for the rotten or evil dads. They are distortions; selfish shadows filling the world with hurt and hate. We don't celebrate them.

This is for the other ones. The ones who do the best they can. The ones we honor today.

The ones who teach us to see and hear God through the things they say and do.

Dad says "I want to hear your good news. I want to celebrate with you. I want to hug and high-five and shout when you succeed. I will cheer loudest at your victories and embarrass you with my joy."

Dad says "I want to be there for you during the hard times. I want to help you in any way I can. I want to fix everything so that you never have to suffer. Some things I cannot fix. I'm sorry - more sorry than you can know. But know that seeing you suffer hurts me, too."

Dad says "I want to keep you safe. I worry about you all the time. I will always protect you any way I can. And if the mean, ugly things of the world hurt you anyway, come to me. I will help you heal."

Dad says "No matter what you've done, I'm here. I'd give my life for you." 

 Dad says "I know there are things you cannot do. Let me help. I want to help."

Dad says "I want to give you everything you wish for. Sometimes I can't, but I want to. I want you to have it all. Anything I have - just ask."

Dad says "My greatest joy is seeing you. I love hearing your voice. I like seeing your face. Make room for me in your life."

Dad says "I love you, no matter what."

The card says: "Smile, 'cause Dad says so."

Thanks, dad(s) for being there. 

God is smiling on you. 

He likes what you're teaching us to hear.

(Repost) Wanderers!

I originally posted this in the summer of 2009 on facebook. Reposted because... well... summer's coming!

So...

If you know me well at all, then you know that I grew up in a family of wanderers. Nomads. Gypsies. Whatever you want to call it, we are a people who don't know how to stay put. If you don't know me well (yet), perhaps the easiest way to sum it up is to say I attended 10 schools from grade six through grade 12. I'm not an "army brat." I'm blue-collar, and proud of it. Mom's a waitress. Dad's in construction. We follow the work. Sometimes this requires a very "flexible" lifestyle.

From all that wandering, I learned some valuable lessons.

1) There is a correct way to load a moving van. There is also a correct way to drive one.
2) Home is people, not places.
3) Everywhere is somewhere. Enjoy it. Your life is someone else's vacation destination.
4) Keep a book handy. They don't need to be plugged in, charged up, or properly loaded. They don't interfere with other people's conversation. You decide when to "play." There is no time limit. If you loose one it's not the end of the world.
5) There is no thing you own that you cannot replace. Some are just harder to find than others. Searching for them can be fun, too.
6) Real friends keep in touch, even if only once-in-a-while.
7) You'd be surprised how far you can stretch $5 when you really need to.
8) A plan is helpful. Trusting in the plan makes all the difference.

I also learned that it's okay to take risks. Sometimes things don't go quite the way you'd hoped. That's frustrating. Annoying. Depressing. Ultimately, though, you will survive. You'll come out on the other side with another great story to tell.

This recession has been hard on construction. Waitresses, too. There hasn't been steady work for months, so it's time to move on. Time for a fresh start in a new place. Actually, not so new. They're heading back to the North East, where they both grew up. Because there hasn't been much work, they made a tough call to try to sell the furniture instead of moving it with them. I know how hard that decision was. A lot of it hasn't sold yet. That makes it even harder. There is no fairy godmother to turn the furniture into gasoline along the way. Still, they need to go, so they'll make do with what they've got. I believe they will be fine. They always are.

My folks are some of the bravest people I know. This year they turn 50. They've been together for 20+ years now. Some folks mark these milestones with roots firmly planted, branches spread, settled in to rest and survey a familiar landscape. Not my folks. They pack up. Pick up. Move out. Don't hesitate (much). Do what it takes.

That's what I want to be like when I'm 50.

BOLD.