A Good Man

In my teen years I would be described as sassy at best or high maintenance as my dad would say (and still does). I think about the things I put my dad through and yet his patience was everlasting. For instance when I was fourteen/ fifteen my Dad took me to seminary (an early morning church class) every morning at 6:00 AM. He didn’t have to be into work that early, but he took me anyway because that is just the kinda Dad he is. Not only did he do this happily, but he would give me ten wake-up calls to get me there on time. Every morning resulted in me running to the car in a frenzied rush pom poms flying and the whole bit. I used his (Police) car visor mirror as my personal vanity. I was always amazed that by the time he dropped me off I hadn’t ruined his morning. In just a twenty minute ride many demands came from my glossed lips. “Dad, take the corners easy… I’m applying my mascara; do you have to tap on the steering wheel like that? Can you go faster, I’m gonna be late (like it’s his fault) I forgot my lunch, can I have lunch money… oh yeah and its picture day.” What can I say even coming from two (very) morning persons; I am not in the slightest a morning person. By the end of the car ride I was always expecting my dad to throw me out of the car while peeling out, blaring his oldies and yet everyday it went a little more like this “Have a good day kid.”

In a world of missing Fathers I am so grateful to report that mine was home every night for dinner and many nights helped prepare the dinner and clean the kitchen. I don’t think I ever stopped being sixteen in my Dads eyes and that’s okay with me. I have seen the same look in his eyes when I went away to college, went on a mission for my church, got married and had my babies… proud and yet shocked that I am in fact not sixteen anymore. He still doesn’t want me to be cold, hungry, drive in the dark or rain (or at all), climb ladders, lift heavy objects, or cry. My Dad taught me lessons that no one else could have, but the most important lesson he taught me was what to expect from a man. I am the cliché (and happy to be) of the girl who married a man like her Father. How grateful I am to be my Father’s daughter.

Gratitude

• For my Dad, he really is the best.

• For my husband and the wonderful (really wonderful) Dad that he is to our children.

• For my Father in-law. He really is like a Father to me.

• For Father’s day, a day to reflect the good men in our lives.