Happy Birthday Dad!

Tonight we had the honor of hosting my father’s birthday party at our house (it was earlier this week, but my folks were out of town). First, I am sure if someone asked my dad when I was 11-14 if I would be able to have my house in order to have a party he would have simply laughed. But I found joy in preparing my home and a meal for my family and having my home filled with the laughter and noise. Our family gatherings have changed a bit now that we have 3 children… and they will only get more fun as the boys begin to walk and talk. Anyway, I digress from my point. Tonight we celebrated my father… who isn’t much for fanfare or celebration especially when he is the focus. So, I wanted to take a moment to honor him here where he can’t stop me…

The memories I have of my dad as a little girl are mostly of his presence. He traveled a lot when I was young, but I remember him being there. Sometimes it was a commanding presence and sometimes soft and gentle… but his presence is there as I reflect on my childhood. He speaks love through his acts of service… he was always working in the yard, cleaning cars, or doing church work. I rarely saw him simply sit and be. He kindly allowed me to simply shut my door so he could ignore my messy room. For a few years, he would watch cheesy family movies on Friday nights with me, Mom and Kristi so we could have family time with pizza and chocolate fondue. Saturday mornings he made biscuits and white gravy. He came to wrestling matches to watch me cheer… and I still don’t know if he enjoyed the sport or not, but he learned about it because I cared. He came to watch track meets where I was simply the manager. My senior year of high school we watched ER together every Thursday night. He started keeping up with Mississippi State sports once I decided that’s where I would go to school... even though they were rivals of his beloved Alabama. He did his best to like the boys I brought home… and he has taken Clay in as his own son. He protects the women in his life like a father bear. He may not always show it or say it, but he feels deeply. He let me go when it was time although I know he wasn’t ready. We didn’t always see eye to eye and there were days he was not my favorite person, but I can see now that he simply wanted what was best for me. He longed to shape me in to a capable, independent woman. He wanted to preserve my innocence, but help me navigate the world. He let me make mistakes, but was always there to catch me if I fell. While the relationship has changed over the years, I know he is still there and will fight for my family with all he has. He is not a perfect man, and as I have gotten older, I’ve seen that him make mistakes… but he tries his best and I hope he knows I am here if he falls. He has given me many things… parts of his personality, some of his stubbornness, and more. But he gave me one of the best gifts the day my son was born. As he left the room before I began pushing, he stopped, put his hand on my leg, looked me straight in the eyes and told me how proud he was of me. I’ve lived most of my life wanting to please him, and while I knew he was proud at various points in my life… that day and moment are etched in my mind and heart. A little girl always longs to know her daddy is proud of her. Daddy, thank you for that gift and simply the gift of you. Thank you for becoming my friend, and thank you for your unconditional love. I love you. Happy Birthday!