So, just like many others, my facebook page was overrun this morning with people's reactions to the election yesterday. And in the midst of the raging political storm that has been raging throughout this campaign season, I was reminded of grateful I am for my dad (don't worry, Mom, you'll get a blog post too). I know that it may seem strange to say that a political storm reminds me of my dad, but if you will bear with me, I will explain my thought process. This past Father's Day I posted a picture of our family riding the log flume at Disney World on my facebook page, and in the picture, my mom and sister are screaming, my aunts are bowing their heads, perhaps in prayer that God will deliver them from their current horror, my uncle is smiling/laughing, I look at absolutely terrified, and my dad is sitting there calm, like nothing is really going on. I chose to caption the photo by thanking my dad for remaining calm trough all life's storms. And that is one thing that makes me feel incredibly blessed to have such an awesome dad in my life. I know that no matter what crisis I face, I can count on my dad to see me through and to always be the voice of reason when everyone else has lost theirs. He truly is the calm in the midst of life's storms. There have been countless times where I have found myself in a bind and he has been there, whether its to take care of me when I am ill, to fix my car when its broken down or just to offer advice when I'm not sure what to do; no matter the situation, I know I can count on him to see me through. And if you will indulge me a trip down memory lane, I want to take the time to share a memory that I have that reminds me of how incredibly blessed I am...
I apologize in advance for the "content" of this story, but I will try and keep the graphic nature to a minimum....As a child, I was active in the children's choir at our church, and one year we had a part in the Christmas cantata in which we were to sing a song and we were all to be wearing white robes (I think we were to give off the image that we were angels). Anyway, I hadn't been feeling well that night, but when on to sing anyway. Thankfully, despite not feeling well, I made it through the song okay, and safely off the stage. However, not so thankfully, I didn't quite make it to the bathroom, nor did I make it out of the sanctuary before vomiting, not only all over my once white robe, but also all over the floor of the sanctuary wing aisle. Obviously, I had made a rather quick progression from not feeling well, to being full on sick. But to my amazement, there to greet me at the door heading out of the sanctuary was my dad. He lovingly escorted me down the stairs and to the couch in his office and left me there briefly while he went upstairs to clean up my mess. After that, he took me home and "took care of me." I choose to share this story not only because my dad took care of me when I was sick, (I could share numerous stories just like that), but I share this story because of something I realized later on, and something that has stuck with me since then. There is a small detail of this story that sticks out to me to this very day, years later, and its not just that my dad took care of me while I was sick or that he cleaned up my mess in the sanctuary, but that he was there to meet me at the door when I sick. You see, after being home for awhile and having had a little bit of a chance to recover from the ordeal, I asked my dad something I just couldn't figure out, I asked him how he it is he knew what in the world was going on, how did he know to be at the door of the sanctuary wing to meet me. You see, two things made his appearance at the door remarkable to me. The first being that he knew I had thrown up. I didn't understand how he could have known since he had been sitting in the balcony and thus unable to see me. The second being that he was there within in seconds of it happening, so even if he had somehow gotten a glimpse of it happening, how in the world did he get to the sanctuary wing so fast? His answer? "While you were still singing, I saw all of the color leave your face, and knew you were getting ready to be sick, so I rushed over to the wing." He just knew. I often joke that my dad knows everything, matter of fact, I have always thought he would be a good candidate for Jeopardy. But the thing I take from this story, and the point I am trying to illustrate, is that my dad knows me, and that means the world to me. He knew I was going to be sick, and he made sure he was there to take care of me. He knows me better at times than I know myself, I certainly didn't have a clue that I was getting ready to puke all over the place, yet he did. He knows me inside and out and he loves me just the same; he's kind of awesome like that. I could go on about the many things my dad has done or the many attributes he has to make me grateful that he's my dad, but I think its enough that he loves me for who I am, and I couldn't ask for anything more than that.
I apologize in advance for the "content" of this story, but I will try and keep the graphic nature to a minimum....As a child, I was active in the children's choir at our church, and one year we had a part in the Christmas cantata in which we were to sing a song and we were all to be wearing white robes (I think we were to give off the image that we were angels). Anyway, I hadn't been feeling well that night, but when on to sing anyway. Thankfully, despite not feeling well, I made it through the song okay, and safely off the stage. However, not so thankfully, I didn't quite make it to the bathroom, nor did I make it out of the sanctuary before vomiting, not only all over my once white robe, but also all over the floor of the sanctuary wing aisle. Obviously, I had made a rather quick progression from not feeling well, to being full on sick. But to my amazement, there to greet me at the door heading out of the sanctuary was my dad. He lovingly escorted me down the stairs and to the couch in his office and left me there briefly while he went upstairs to clean up my mess. After that, he took me home and "took care of me." I choose to share this story not only because my dad took care of me when I was sick, (I could share numerous stories just like that), but I share this story because of something I realized later on, and something that has stuck with me since then. There is a small detail of this story that sticks out to me to this very day, years later, and its not just that my dad took care of me while I was sick or that he cleaned up my mess in the sanctuary, but that he was there to meet me at the door when I sick. You see, after being home for awhile and having had a little bit of a chance to recover from the ordeal, I asked my dad something I just couldn't figure out, I asked him how he it is he knew what in the world was going on, how did he know to be at the door of the sanctuary wing to meet me. You see, two things made his appearance at the door remarkable to me. The first being that he knew I had thrown up. I didn't understand how he could have known since he had been sitting in the balcony and thus unable to see me. The second being that he was there within in seconds of it happening, so even if he had somehow gotten a glimpse of it happening, how in the world did he get to the sanctuary wing so fast? His answer? "While you were still singing, I saw all of the color leave your face, and knew you were getting ready to be sick, so I rushed over to the wing." He just knew. I often joke that my dad knows everything, matter of fact, I have always thought he would be a good candidate for Jeopardy. But the thing I take from this story, and the point I am trying to illustrate, is that my dad knows me, and that means the world to me. He knew I was going to be sick, and he made sure he was there to take care of me. He knows me better at times than I know myself, I certainly didn't have a clue that I was getting ready to puke all over the place, yet he did. He knows me inside and out and he loves me just the same; he's kind of awesome like that. I could go on about the many things my dad has done or the many attributes he has to make me grateful that he's my dad, but I think its enough that he loves me for who I am, and I couldn't ask for anything more than that.
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