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I went to my obgyn yesterday, and got the news that I may need to have surgery on my urethra. Not very polite dinner table conversation, so I won't go into it here. But, the reason that I mention this, is because the first person that I told about my "female" problems was my daddy. After I talked to him, and as I was driving home, I laughed about this. Man, I must be really close to my daddy if I'm willing to share this kind of stuff with him! And then I started reflecting...
I've always been close to my daddy. As a child, I remember watching the clock, waiting for him to come home from work. He would finally pull up, and our St. Bernard, Butch, and I would run to greet him. Butch would grab one arm, and I would grab the other. I have fond memories of childhood. I remember Daddy coming home for lunch during the summer, quickly eating a sandwich, then coming outside to spray Livi and I with the water hose to cool us off. Later on, when we bought a house with a pool, we missed those water hose days where we didn't have to vacuum the pool every weekend! Daddy wanted us to have nice things, but he also instilled in us the importance of taking care of those nice things. And to him the most important nice things that you can take care of is your family. And he has done that well.
My daddy has always worked hard, he is a devout Christian, and I have always been proud to be his daughter. He has never been one to raise his voice; he could always get us back in line with a simple look or with his soft spoken words. Mama used to say, "Johnny, you see the world through rose tinted glasses!" She would get annoyed sometimes at his incessant positivity. But it worked, and it still does. As teenagers, when Livi and I were trying to spread our wings, we got many of those talks, and many of those looks! But the best talks that I have had with my daddy were on the swing out by the pool. Whenever I was feeling down, I would go out to the swing, and sure enough, minutes later, here would come Daddy. His words of wisdom never failed to bring me out of my darkest times.
I remember one of the darkest days; the day he and Mama came to the house to tell me that his heart was failing, and that he needed surgery immediately. Only, since his heart was in such bad shape, they were having trouble finding a doctor willing to do the surgery. This man, my rock, whom I thought was invincible, was telling me that if he didn't have surgery, he may have about a month or two left with us. My world was shaken. For the first time, I had to imagine the possibility of a life without my daddy. I couldn't.
Thankfully, he did find a doctor, and now, 11 years later he is still with us. Still working hard, still trying to do everything that he did before, and getting frustrated when he tires out. This is a man who went back to work two days after getting a new defibrillator put in. However, as strong as he is, I no longer take him for granted. I cherish every moment. I love watching him interact with his grandchildren. I love how their eyes light up when they talk about Nana & Papa. I love how they look forward to swimming with him, and riding the bikes that he fixed up for them. I love how Welles wants me to tell him the story of the Three Bears and Goldilocks every single night. Only in our version, it's Nana Bear, Papa Bear, and Baby Welles Bear. And Papa Bear fixes the chair that Goldilocks breaks, and Nana Bear gives him new oatmeal (we say oatmeal instead of porridge) since Goldilocks ate all of his. I'm so thankful my children have been given the chance to know this amazing man. I hope they all grow up to be just like him.
And I see that he interacts with them much like he did and still does with Livi and me. One look is usually all it takes. Sometimes he gives them (and us) a talk. And always, everything revolves around love. Love others. Love yourself. And most importantly, love the Lord. If you do those things, everything else will usually take care of itself.
Now,even though I am grown and am quickly approaching the big 4-0, his words still comfort me, and they always will. I love you, Daddy. You have always been, and continue to be the rock that keeps me grounded, that keeps me full of hope. Keep on wearing those "rose tinted glasses." They become you well.
