Dear Dad,
I was thinking about what I would write to you this Father’s Day since I’m away. I sat here for a while frustrated that I couldn’t come up with the “right” words. But as I was sitting here, memories started to flash through my mind…memories from a decade ago and ones from only last summer.
Remember that time when we were somewhere with a beach (it had to be either Florida or North Carolina) and you put me in a swing with fire ants directly below it? Remember how I got out of that swing and having forgotten about the ants, screamed bloody murder when I began to feel the excruciating pain running up my legs when they bit me? Do you remember how I cried?
I do!
But I remember more than that. I remember how you rushed over to me as fast as you could. How you brushed off those fire ants as fast as you could (probably getting bit yourself). I remember how you held me close as we walked away. Tears were still in my eyes, but I knew that I was safe in your arms.
I don’t know why that memory played through my mind as I sat here trying to write.
Then another memory flashed through my mind…that horrid day last summer when I came out of work to find my truck wouldn’t start.
Remember how I called you so completely frustrated and exhausted, just wanting you to help me; wishing I was home instead of hours away? How you calmly talked to me even though I am sure I wasn’t quite so nice in return? I think we spent a good half hour or more on the phone. By the time I got off the phone with you, I felt better. I still had a truck that didn’t work and no one to come help me, but I had a little more confidence about what to do. My truck did end up getting fixed. I paid for it myself. I called you with the official verdict and news when it was fixed. Life went on.
Those memories don’t seem to have anything in common except for who was involved. But they actually do have more to do with each other than that! As I sat here trying to write a blog for you, I connected them together.
In the first memory, you physically rescued me from the threat. You may have put me into the line of fire in the first place :), but you were there to get me out too. I felt safe with you. The second memory wasn’t quite the same. By that time, I had grown up and was miles away from home. You couldn’t be there to rescue me again. But what I noticed was that even though you weren’t there, you were still available when I needed you for help. And not only that, but in those years between the memories, you were teaching me how to pick myself up and start again when I failed. You allowed me to make mistakes and find my own way when I messed up.
Sometimes I get distracted thinking of how you never were the tree house building dad or the one who was in the center of the front row for every school play or soccer game.
But then I remember that I have a dad who not only worked incredibly hard to provide for me, but one who gave me a chance to spread my wings and fly. There were plenty of times where I crashed and burned, but you taught me to try again.
One who would sit up and talk to me for hours when I was home from school. A dad who drove all the way down to Dallas because I asked to attend the Restoring Love event. It was a 12 hour drive and a 5 day trip. I know you had other things to do, but it was important to me. So you made it happen.
I might have a dad who stuck me in a swing above an ant pile, but I have a dad who also smiles proudly when I finally figure out how to soar. One who taught me values that I will never forget. Thanks for being that dad.
I love you! Happy Father’s Day!
Your Princess,
Sarah
