Summer 1996… I’m 6 years-old and sitting under the clothesline with my cousin. We are playing with our new baby dolls when I watch my daddy walk out to his pick-up. I look at my cousin and say,
“When I grow up I’m going to marry my daddy.”
Yep. I am one of THOSE girls… daddy’s girl at heart.
The memory I described above is one of the clearest and sharpest memories from my childhood. Actually, MOST of my memories of my daddy and me are my sharpest. Dad and I have always shared a strong relationship. We could talk about anything. (He once even asked me if Cody and I were sexually attracted to each other because it appeared to him that we didn’t have a difficult time refraining from physical intimacy while we were dating!) He was my rock and fortress. Dad really fostered my relationship with the Lord. I probably wouldn’t have the faith I do today if it weren’t for his love and guidance. There isn’t a person in the world that I desire approval from more, other than my husband… who is, in fact, NOT my daddy. 
Dad walking me down the aisle
Fast forward 17 years…
I find myself in the middle of the Tennessee wilderness at World Race Training Camp. The lectures are intense. I find myself in the middle of a lecture where we are encouraged to ask the Lord to give us a picture of something that happened to us in our past and then reveal where He was in the whole situation. I’m sitting praying, asking the Lord to reveal ANYTHING to me… but nothing comes. I start getting a little frustrated, imagining that everyone around me is getting some vision. Later, we are asked to separate into groups and discuss what He has revealed to us. I “wing” my turn with situations I am aware of and try to forget about my frustration at the lack of a vision.
Fast forward to that evening…
I am sitting in the row behind Cody during worship. The speaker gets up and asks that anyone who has ever been abused physically, sexually, or emotionally to raise their hands for prayer. Now, I am truly past the incident that happened to me as a child… really, the Lord has allowed me to turn it around to help others with similar experiences. But I raise my hand anyway. Hey, everyone can use a little extra prayer.
I stand with my hand raised, eyes closed as people surround me to pray. I recognize my husband’s voice and Deon, our squad dad. I feel the Lord telling me to keep my hand up until He says so. After awhile my arm starts BURNING! Just as I’m about to let it fall I feel my husband’s hand come to my rescue. Cody is holding my arm up.
When the praying ceases I look up to see Deon coming down the aisle of chairs to me. The first thing he says is, “I am so proud of you.” This is where I LOST it… I just started bawling! He takes me into his arms and just starts pouring words of blessing and encouragement over me… “I am so proud of you. I am so proud of the woman you have become. The Father is so proud of you!” (I am teary-eyed just typing this.) I remember hesitating a bit and then thinking “No! You need this, Steph… give it up!” I relaxed in Deon’s arms and just let the tears fall as he stroked my hair and continued speaking life over me. I even remember telling him not to move because it felt so good.
to be continued…
