Today my father would have celebrated his 85th birthday. He is dearly loved and deeply missed. Thank you, Dad, for the forever imprint you placed on my heart. I’m so grateful to be your daughter.
You took us to the other side of the world to serve others but that never stopped you from taking care of us. No fixit request we dropped on you last minute was ever too much. You modeled what being a faithful spouse should look like. You were a man of few words and much integrity, with the tenacity required to catch Canada’s biggest and finest and bring home the BPOW fishing trophy to prove it.
- I will miss you telling me “love you lots” when you said goodbye.
- I will miss your dry humor, sometimes so esoteric that only you knew you were saying something funny.
- I will miss you grumbling about Mom making taco salad for dinner on “fun food Friday.”
- I will miss you ringing my doorbell and sending the dog into distinctive fits of yowling, announcing that we were about to welcome a very special guest.
- I will miss being able to take my broken “whatevers” over to your house – knowing you’ll figure out a way to make it all better.
- I will miss you calling me Barbie, watching Fox News, and listening to obnoxious talk radio super loud while you paint my house.
- I will miss your reaching for my hand as we bow our heads and thank God for the food.
- I will miss your declining days, when you took long naps in your chair.
- I will miss you being sick – but… still here with us.
Now that you’re gone, it feels like the earth has shifted on its axis. And until we see each other again, I will never stop missing you.
I love you, Dad. Love you lots…
In exactly 10 days from now, my niece Aubrey is going to walk down the wide curving staircase of an historic hotel in downtown Nashville on her father’s arm. Like royalty, she’ll be stunning in the perfect white dress of her dreams.
Family and friends will have come from near and far to see this wonderful thing play itself out; some of them will be meeting Patrick for the first time.
We will also celebrate the graceful journey that carried Aubrey to this day. Because you see, Aubrey made the decision long ago to stay true to herself, not willing to exchange authenticity for popularity, and she’s still comfortable in that skin. Continue reading
There is a rambling yellow house with a big porch on Azalea Street in Berry Hill. It’s a funky little area, a mish-mash of cottages where purveyors of vintage attire, dolls, used CDs plus this-n-thats sell their wares from within oldish walls that have been revived to new life. The yellow house sits off on a quieter street but is filled with the voices of children and teens, most days after school and on weekends too.
The house is called Daystar, and it’s a place where kids can come and feel safe, where they can open up and discover who they were created to be. Lucky for us–tonight Daystar staff came to our school tonight to share some of their tried-and-tested wisdom about Raising Kids of Character.
Just thought I would include some sound bites for your perusal. Feel free to stick around and chew on ’em. Take all the time you need…
- Parents tend to make their kids into what they think they should become, instead of who they were created to be.
- Character cannot be lectured into a child. And no, saying it LOUDer over and over and over again doesn’t make it any more clear!
- To the extent that your kids can predict your reaction, the more they will tend to dismiss you.
- If it’s hard to meaningfully interact with your child, try the old “Drive-by Complement” approach.
Thanks to the Christ Presbyterian Academy PSF for sponsoring this event!
I hate it when I’m late to yoga. I whip into the parking lot, locate a spot (hopefully near the door), jump out and jog past the front desk. With the room dark and peaceful, and everyone halfway to their happy place, I tiptoe around bodies to grab a mat, find a spot and start relaxing. And swear that I’ll get there on time, next time.
As class wound down yesterday, the music transitioned into Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring and I was transported back into the past. The year: 1979. My dad is walking me down the aisle of a little Baptist Church and the music is Jesu, the guitar version. It was like I was there again. Strange how music does that.
Anyway, post-yoga I’m drinking coffee at Panera and contemplating the relentless passage of time. I can’t believe it’s really been thirty years since that trip to the altar. Alot of water under the bridge. I’ve moved to a different state, married again, become a mom, and now just this week became Facebook friends with that guitar player from my past. Circle of life stuff, I guess… Continue reading