It began when I was a toddler. Visiting friends, I discovered an old razor blade, rusted beyond purpose, and being a toddler, I put it in my mouth and bit.
My father reassembled all the fragments of crumbling metal, toiling with tweezers, to ensure that I hadn’t swallowed a single sliver.
“No, Daddy.”
“Is anyone else hurt?”
“No.”
“Okay, then. Call Mike at State Farm.”
As an adult I learned that some people struggle to see God as a loving Father, as they have no human reflection of that image. My dad showed me mercy and justice, forgiveness and discipline, and love.
Always and unconditionally, he offered love. He still does.
Watching him, I realized:
Mom was the heartbeat of our family. But Dad was, is, will always be, our backbone.
So glad he kept after you with your writing. What a lovely tribute to a fine man.
I'm thankful for lots of things he kept after me about, Nancy.
I was a, um—challenging adolescent. He never gave up.
What a beautiful tribute. Thank you, Sheila.
I loved this story about your dad, and how you stated: "Mom was the heartbeat of our family. But Dad was, is, will always be, our backbone."
I can't remember my Dad ever showing up at my school events, but he was there at my church performances at Christmas and Easter. Dad's often sluff off the fact that they DID have a part in raising us. I enjoyed the mention of the times he went beyond the call of duty to make certain you were taken care of properly.
Diana,
It is truly my privilege. Thanks for reading.
Hazel,
Thanks.
My dad came to my concerts, my plays, athletic events, everything he could.
He's a tremendous blessing to me–and my siblings, and our children.
This one brought tears to my eyes. Your description of your dad is obviously written by a very loving daughter.
:::Passing the Kleenex:::
Aww, Red. Precious words from an awesome dad. Thanks.