Today is my father's birthday. I miss him very much so I'm going to brag on him.
This morning at 5 o'clock I was awake from another night of sleep not wanting to come. I finally used the amazingness that is Skype to talk with mommy. Then my daddy and I starting talking. I felt free to be my hypochondriac self by quizing him on his experience with hyper thyroid and its treatment to weigh in if my jitters, emotional oversensitivity, fitful sleep, and crazy dreams could be accounted for by an inherited malfunction. He patiently talked me through without judgment or trying to fix anything. He trusts I'll eventually go to the doctor if I think something is really wrong but still managed show his concern that I don't walk in a daze into traffic.
Earlier in the night I listened to one of Mark Driscoll's ranting about his own precious relationship with he daughter. He talked about snuggling, going on daddy daughter dates, and all the emotional affection they have for one another. I am so thankful that my dad and I have that today, too.
As I worked through the morning I began to reflect how thankful I am for such a dad. I would not be the woman I am today without his influence and love in my life.
When I look back to when I was small my father was a youth pastor and I remember climbing into his arms as he talked with students as if I were a part of who he was and how safe that felt.
One of my earliest memories of understanding the Gospel and my mission in life is connected with my father. As part of some illustration for his students, Daddy put me at the end of a partition-wall maze. I was the "lost sheep" that Jesus and his followers were to go seeking. I still remember seeing the back-lit silhouettes and Daddy reaching down to pick me up after waiting for what seemed an eternity.
After realizing my need for Jesus to take control of my life so that I could have the power and grace that my parents and others had, I walked the aisle to my Daddy who picked me up to announce to the church his joy. He was nervous to Baptize me so we practiced the night before the service.
I remember when he took my to Kirov Ballet when the troop came to San Antonio. He bought me the fancy program of their performance in matte finish photographs - a great treasure I looked through again and again.
I remember how he didn't flinch when as a senior in high school I changed my plans from joining him in architecture as an interior designer to a major in vocal performance.
Daddy also didn't flinch when after five years of undergrad, I realized I cared more about musicians than performance. He supported my decision against grad school and professional singing to be a part of God's mission in cities. He counseled me through decisions and didn't pressure me to go to his alma mater. When I did choose New Orleans, he treated it as my decision in my life - not his - so if I changed directions again even after one semester of seminary, I should feel free to do it. I can't tell you how affirming that is.
When I wanted to stay to do relief work after Katrina, he didn't pressure me to come home to safety or left me to my hair-brained devices. He listened. He prayed. He supported. I had never felt so much that Daddy trusted God with me and me with God.
He expresses pride in my choices which has given me hope while living in Vienna as I have struggled with loneliness and worry so far from friends and family. When I made mistakes or was processing through ideas, he has been there.
He and Momma have both taken time out of their busy schedules to visit, but not only that, to experience the culture of Europe together. There's nothing like going to the Louvre with my Daddy. I was also grateful for how tall he was when we all got separated in the crowded Sistene Chapel. And I will never forget how we discovered Mexican food in Rome after a morning at the Colosseum.
We can now talk shop about the condition of churches, how we can better disciple people, and what conventions he's going to. I can be nerdy and academic with him.
I'm so thankful that he has clearly been a prayer advocate for me at work and at church by the number of people who has written to say they're praying for me.
He has talked me through my questions and stories about boys and then men through the years. He puts things into perspective as I see what I loving man acts like. My mother and I have always been very close an we're always talking on top of each other. My father is quiet and it took me years to realize all the treasures that come when I ask him his thoughts and seek his counsel. I treasure our times together.
I can't wait to be home and just snuggle on the couch and watch Castle marathons or go out to lunch with him.
So, I pray that you have a wonderful birthday, Daddy. I am so honored to be your daughter and my heart is full of love for you.
