Definition of a Dad

Definition of a Dad

 

Today is Father’s Day.  It seems hard to believe that a whole year has passed already.  Life is so funny like that.  We lose track of time so easily in our busy little lives.

As I was thinking of what I wanted to share with you all this time in my Father’s Day tribute post, I began thinking about my father.  About all that he is and all that he means to me.  I’ve never really considered him to be Superman or Prince Charming or Knight in Shining Armor, nor can I honestly say that I think of him as my hero.  To me, he’s just daddy.  But what is “daddy”?  What’s behind the name “Dad”?

The best way I could think to answer that question for you all was to give you a picture of a few of the facets of a man who is expertise at fulfilling that role.  I have so many memories of times with my dad when I was younger and so many ways I can list of how he impacted my life growing up, but this time, I decided to paint a picture for you all of my dad as he is today in the here and now.  Of the father he is to me now, not years ago, and of the blessing he still is on my life even in this season.

In truth, I’m more like my mother.  I look more like her and my personality bears more resemblance to hers.  But in many ways, I’m like my father too.  In physical appearance, I have his light hair from when he was a boy, and I have his ruddy tone: my cheeks are always pink (although he says it’s just because I’m always blushing).  Our faces turn tomato red whenever we laugh really hard… which is pretty often on my part.  My mom says I have his “great smile,” that I smile with my whole face like he does.  I also have his friendliness she tells me.  I inherited his love for people and his love of science: chemistry and biology were favorite high school courses of mine.  I was blessed with his gift of words and his good media sense, and on a recent road trip just a few weekends ago, I realized as we listened to his Lincoln Brewster cd that he even shares my appreciation for a rockin’ electric guitar.  When I was little, I remember I used to love being just like him.  I’ll never forget his habit of former years when he would bounce his rolled up socks off of the wall over the bedroom door, catching them as he walked through and left the room.  Much to my mother’s dismay, I tried mimicking his habit a few times and was so pleased with myself when I finally timed it right to catch my socks.  Or reminiscing farther back, I remember all of those Saturday mornings when he would take me to the Home Depot children’s workshops and pass along his carpentry knowledge to me.  I was quite the little builder then with him at my side, and I loved how proud he would get as I walked along with him, wearing my pin-decorated orange apron and carrying my own little red toolbox.

Like any dad though, mine also has his quirks.  One such is his love for music (another love which I inherited from him).  He sings all the time, modifying songs to sing about my mom and me (although I too sing about my mom a lot, I have to admit).  From the time he awakes in the morning, he has a song on his heart already and serenades us non-morning people as he brushes his teeth and later gets his coffee and breakfast.  He especially loves our two-story open foyer where he says the acoustics are great.  Although there are times when I seem less than grateful and appreciative of his booming melodies, what a sad and solemn time evenings would be without his songs when he gets home from work and Sunday mornings before church.  We can always count on him too to bring his Chris Tomlin cd on a road trip- our traveling music it’s come to be.  He also comes up with an endless supply of nicknames for my mom and me.  His iPhone always seems to be close at hand for the times that he considers picture-perfect moments of his girls.  I’ll never forget the first time I wore one of my “rock star” outfits: when he and my mom dropped me off at our church for the young adult worship service, he caught a picture of me laughing my protest against posing for his iPhone.  His timing isn’t always the best, but I love the random pictures he catches.

  More important than our similarities and more memorable than his quirks though is my relationship with my dad.  My daddy’s always believed in me and my potential.  He’s always encouraged me to dream big and to do my best in everything, always allowed me to be myself and my own person without making me feel like, as the youngest, I was expected to walk in the footsteps of my older sisters.  In his fatherly wisdom, he pushes me to do things that are good for me even when I protest and try to debate my case against his.  For instance, my recent experience of taking the ACT last Saturday was a battle I fought hard tooth and nail.  No matter what my score comes back as though, the test taught me to step out of my comfort zone and face my fear of failure.  Through it I learned that I can’t try to run away from and avoid a situation in life just because it’s something I don’t want do, something I’m scared to do, or something that’s difficult.  Daddy knew it was for my good that I take the test and as I fell asleep the night before, I knew in my heart that for some reason, God wanted me to go take it the next day.  And I’m so glad now that I did.

My dad builds me up spiritually and emotionally.  He speaks words of encouragement into my life and imparts his fatherly blessing upon me.  The tremor of seriousness in his voice when he prays makes me cry every time.  All of his times of “preaching” as he shared his fatherly wisdom and counsel didn’t go unappreciated and found root, even though at times it probably seemed his words went in one ear and out the other.  His success story stands as a model for me of the way the Lord blesses the steps of a man (or woman) that follows after Him obediently and commits his work to the Lord.  “Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and your plans will succeed.” (Pr 16:3) 

At eighteen-years-old, I’m changing a lot and have changed tremendously over the past several months.  Throughout these changes and this crucial time in my life, he’s been so understanding and patient and takes each new change as it comes with his easy-going, laid-back manner.  As the Lord began to change me from the inside out, he accepted the new me and made an effort to get to know my new interests and understand my changes.  For instance, as I became quite a little fashionista and fell in love with clothes, jewelry, and shoes, he took an interest in my new style of dressing.  “So how’re you liking those skinny jeans?  Do you ever have a hard time getting them off?” he asked me inquisitively one day.  Or the time he inquired where I came up with my fashion combinations.  I remember one time he even sat on the carpeted bathroom floor with me recently as I painted my nails canary yellow for church the next morning. 

As I grow older, lately he’s found opportunities to tease me and to laugh with me as my face turns red and I try to hide my blushes behind my hands or a convenient nearby pillow.  But he always knows just how far to go and never goes beyond just making me blush a little and eliciting my embarrassed giggle.  “Okay, this is so not funny,” I laughed good-humoredly as my face went beet red with embarrassment one time.  He answers my scores of completely random questions and just smiles as on a whim, I absently dance around the kitchen with my head in the clouds.  And on days when I’m not feeling so dreamy, he can make me laugh or at least bring a smile to my lips.  But he can always turn serious too whenever the tone of conversation changes. 

He tells the same jokes over and over, and I laugh genuinely every time because I’ve heard them told so much.  Watching our usual black-and-white TV show every night is always interesting: I laugh as he dissects the DVD menu pictures of the Andersons from “Father Knows Best,” sometimes commenting that the individuals look like people we know.  Every time the menu of a DVD comes up on our TV screen, he promptly asks never fail, “Jewels, what’re the special features?”  Sometimes I think he says it just to get my goose, as I’m always the one in charge of the remote.  But oh, how sad it would be not to hear that jesting question every time we watch a movie! 

Living in a houseful of girls, my daddy’s learned to be sensitive and considerate.  With girls, there are some things you just don’t say and there are sometimes when it’s better to keep silent altogether… and having survived the teenhood of three daughters, my dad’s become quite an expert at judging these things.  He’s learned to set aside his instinct of frugality and tells me now I look pretty without asking how much my new outfit cost.  He lets me cry all my tears, but as he told me one Sunday after worship, his heart broke for me as I had cried my heart out.    

            It doesn’t take much for my dad to show he cares.  Sometimes he shows his love by the “big things”: he makes me feel special and worthwhile as he spoils my mom and I with Starbucks stops, restaurant dinners, and occasionally a special trip into Atlanta to “live it up” with a play at the FOX Theater or a performance by the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra.  I truly believe he loves spoiling his girls and having them all primped and dressed up walking alongside him.  Or sometimes, he demonstrates his love by the “little things”: just rubbing my shoulder in church as he has his arm around my mom’s shoulders.  Brushing my curls off my shoulder, stepping over to my mom’s place if she’s left the sanctuary for a moment and giving my shoulders a squeeze, planting a kiss on the top of my head, giving me a hug from behind and telling me he loves me.  Serenading me with songs he’s “done up” for me and with those that he’s come up with entirely on his own.  Several years ago when my eldest sister taught me a handful of guitar chords, he gave me his beautiful, deep-tone, sunburst-color jumbo acoustic guitar he bought for himself many years before.  And I remember too one time when my mom and sisters were busy wedding shopping, we spent a special Sunday afternoon together: he took me to his work and let me drive all around the big, vacant parking lot in his Toyota pickup truck… at a full twenty miles per hour for the first time!  He shows his interest in my life by continuing to ask me time and time again at dinner every evening, “Well, what’s new with you?” even when, I admit, I don’t always cooperate and give an answer beyond, “Oh, nothin’ much.”

            The older I get, I’m coming to recognize that the little things- the habits, the quirks, the songs, the nicknames- are becoming the things that I cherish most about my dad as I realize more that someday, in my own home, I’ll no longer have those little things in my life every day and his “little things” will be replaced by the quirks, the habits, and the voice of another man instead.  It’s truly the little things that sometimes make the greatest impression and leave us with the fondest memories, aren’t they?  These are the facets that illustrate what it means to be called “dad.”  A picture of one of the best examples of godly fatherhood from the most important and influential man in my life.  My dad.

            So let us take today to thank the special men in our lives, to celebrate fatherhood and all that the fathers or father-figures in our lives do for us.  To thank them for being the wonderful men that they are as they stand as an inspiration of what godly fatherhood really is.  And let us not forget to thank our Heavenly Father as well, by Whom the godly men in our lives are equipped to fulfill their fatherly call.

            And to my daddy, thank you for being all that I described you to be and for doing all that I mentioned you do and much more.  As I’m learning, sometime we only see our imperfections rather than our strengths and never truly see ourselves the way that others do.  So I pray that by my words, you might glimpse the incredible husband and father you are to our family… and grandfather now even!  Thank you for being who you are and for setting such a wonderful example for me throughout my life.  I’m so blessed to have you as my father, and I feel so proud on this day and always to call you my dad.  I love you so much, Daddy.

 

 

 

“Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked or stand in the way of sinners or sit in the seat of mockers.  But his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night.  He is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither.  Whatever he does prospers.” Psalm 1:1-3

 

 

 Photo courtesy: www.123rf.com

 

~We’ve all heard of the phrase “pulling on her/ his heartstrings,” but heart-chords?  I was struggling to decide what to name my blog.  I wanted it to be a name that was both creative and meaningful.  As I pondered, my gaze fell upon my acoustic guitar where it stands in my bedroom, and the Lord reminded me that our hearts- our lives- are instruments.  They are constantly in song, but what melody our heart plays is each of our own decisions.  They can play a melody for praise or for entertainment.  A musician selects his songs according to his audience.  So do we.  Whether our audience is the world or the Lord, our song will be different.  This blog is designed to first, increase my awareness in finding God and His guidance in my every day and second, to share the music lessons He teaches me in tuning my heart to learn the chords of praise He longs to play on my heart-instrument.  Music is a powerful tool.  Use it for His glory.  “He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God.  Many will see and fear and put their trust in the Lord.” Psalm 40:3