I have always been a daddy’s girl. And proud of it. Growing up I think I viewed my dad as more of a buddy than a parent. A fact that probably drove my poor mom crazy as she often had to play the role of “bad guy” to maintain some sense of order in our home. (Mom I love you!!!)
My dad was the first person to inspire my love of writing. I was a very shy child. Painfully shy. Like hide behind my parents’ legs to avoid talking to people shy. My dad has always been able to communicate well by writing his feelings, so one night he wrote a letter to me and left it in front of the coffee maker. I found the letter the next day and couldn’t wait to write him back. I snuck out of my room that night to leave my letter in front of the coffee maker for him to find the next morning. Thus began our coffee-pot chronicles. We would exchange notes in front of that coffee-pot for years. It was through those letters that I first realized the power of words.
I could easily communicate through writing what was too hard for me to say. Sometimes my feelings were just too big to speak. I would trip over my words, get embarrassed, or simply lose my train of thought. But not when I wrote them. Those coffee-pot letters enabled me to find my voice.
In addition to letter writing, my dad and I had many games we played. Two of my favorites were “co-pilot to pilot” (where we pretended to be piloting an airplane as we drove around town talking into the air vents), and “I love you the most” (where we would argue over who loved who the most and why…he would always end up playing the “I’ve loved you longer” card..whatever! 😉 )
Just revisiting these memories makes me smile.
Of all the memories I have, the one that brings me the most joy and thankfulness is that it was my daddy who led me to my Savior.
One night many years ago, a shy little girl asked her daddy how God could fit inside her little heart. As only a daddy could, he explained that you don’t swallow God. You simply ask Him to forgive your sin and to live inside your heart.
My daddy helped me pray to receive Jesus’ gift of eternal life, and I am forever grateful.
I sit here today reflecting on my relationship with my daddy as a way to process my fear. Fear of finding out that my dad has to have open heart surgery to fix three major blockages. I truly did not see this news coming. It’s been a hard week in so many ways, yet good in so many others. Life’s like that though isn’t it? Good intermixed with bad.
My dad will be having surgery very soon and I’m not there. That’s hard. Really hard. I am planning to go, but I must wait until we have more details so that I can make arrangements for my people while I’m gone.
Fear is ever present. It threatens to suffocate. The “what-ifs” swirl in my head. I find myself bartering with God, telling Him that I don’t need such and such if it means my dad will be ok. I even start to wonder if I’ve used up all my answered prayer allotments (like God puts a number on how many prayers He’ll answer!).
But then I remember something: I’m a Daddy’s girl. Not just to my daddy, but to The Daddy. I’m God’s girl, and He’s got this.
My heavenly Daddy promises to hold me through life’s storms. My heavenly Daddy promises to strengthen me for whatever lies ahead. My heavenly Daddy promises to never leave me or forsake me. My heavenly Daddy is stronger than my fear. And my heavenly Daddy is big enough to hold my earthly daddy in the palm of His hand.
So as I wait on word about my daddy, I will wait in the arms of my Daddy.
I don’t know what the future holds, but oh how I cling to the hand of the One who knows the future.
The One who has gone before me and stands behind me.
The One who holds me when I feel overwhelmed.
The One who knows my days and my daddy’s days and carries us through each one.
And as I wait in the Father’s arms, I am grateful for the prayers of so many who are generously petitioning the LORD on our behalf.
Thank you for your prayers. And thank you Daddy for my daddy.