Daddy

My dad. As far as I can think back I remember holding onto my dad and swinging in circles around the room - dancing. I wonder if my kids will remember things like that. I really do - its not that I was always told about it, but I actually remember it. When I was young, my mom says, I told someone matter of fact "i know my daddy loves me, and that's that!" What else did I really need to know in life? I could be a world genius - but sad and alone with out the love of a father. You know they say that babies in orphanages can have all their physical needs met, but without love they die. So I think about that - many times I wish my dad would have done different things with us (you know typical dad stuff - camping, ball games, etc) - but when I really think about it. He did a good job of the most important thing - making sure we knew that daddy loved us. I have lots of memories with the cows at the ranch. He loved that - his form of recreation. He did have some sense of a balanced life - he did Pastoral work, but he also worked his cows for the fun of it. Makes me think - do I have the same balance. What part of my life is just for me to enjoy? When I look on his life . . . he did have a lot of things right. I consider him to be a wise man, anointed. People continually came to him for counsel. A very patient man, slow to anger. I can't really remember when he was angry. I don't remember him getting after us kids much - or even my rambunctious boys (well sometimes!) I have fond memories of his with my young girls. The first years of their life, he was there almost everyday (and we lived in Yakima). He would lay on the floor and let them climb all over him. I even remember the first time I let him "babysit" my kids. The girls were 2 years. He was "sick" but still able to walk around. I had to run downtown, my girls were asleep. So I went for it. I wasn't sure what to expect when I returned. I came home to smoke all over the kitchen. My girls had woken up, crying. My dad got up from his sleep (boy did he like to sleep) and was trying to make them breakfast. He was frying hot dogs - burnt hot dogs! But I was so proud that my dad actually was making an effort. He did what he could. In many ways, he opened our home to many people. Single people, and families who needed a place to stay. He did what he could for our family. We didn't have it all, but we didn't need it all either. As his life changed, it was hard to see. The life that he enjoyed so much, diminishing. Yet, people still came over to seek his wisdom. Even me. When I really wanted to know - I still asked my dad. He didn't let me down. He was a man of intentional words. When he spoke it was because he had something to say. I appreciate every moment, every memory. Even these last days, when he was awake and Jeremiah would play catch with him. When I first laid eyes on his body - after he passed - there was a sense of peace. It was peaceful for me to see him without breath, than struggling to breathe. I love my daddy. I want my daddy. But God knows my daddy. I close my eyes and I watch as he dances around heaven holding my baby in his arms - just as he once held me. Now that is a beautiful picture to imagine.