A few days ago during my quiet time, I found myself thinking about my daddy. Many of you know that he died a little over 7 years ago on Fathers' Day. I still miss him very much. I was reading something from Martha Sterne's Earthly Good: Seeing Heaven on Earth, and I was reminded of him--I could hear his voice in my head saying "coulda, shoulda, woulda" which, of course, was his way of reminding me not to look back and wonder about things in the past…they are in the past and can't be changed. He would want me to learn from these events and decisions but not to dwell on them in a negative manner.
I started remembering…his laugh, his smile, his wisdom, his encouragement. I can remember him telling me on more than one occasion "Don't let this be your problem," when I was upset because I was trying to "own" someone else's problem. I knew my daddy loved me very much. I knew I could count on him to encourage me and let me flex my wings. He was a product of his generation in that he worked long hours and left almost all the daily care of the house and family to my mom--which I am sure, was stressful and draining on her--especially when we kids were arguing and fussing and not helping too much. (That is the thing that stresses me the most as a mom!) My mom attended everything we ever did at school or after school, and my dad attended most of the important events and many of the not-so-important ones too. (I suspect my mom had a lot to do with this ;-)
He often called me "sister," and I can still hear him call me that in my mind. I can still picture him in the stands at a high school football game waving his arms and calling "Hey Sister!" while I was out on the field with my fellow Murrah Misses. Yes, I was embarrassed (and he enjoyed reminding me of that over the years ;-), but mostly I was glad my daddy was there to watch me…and that he was proud of me.
This week my daughter played in her first soccer scrimmage. Neither one of us really wanted to go--she didn't think she'd get to play (since she is junior varsity) and it was sooooo stinkin' hot (even after 6p.m.) So we went mostly to support her team. We were both awed by what happened. My precious girl got out there and rocked!!! She got in there (among girls much older than her) and kicked that ball and stayed with it…trying not to let it get away from her. I could feel Todd there in the midst of it, cheering her on, encouraging her to "stay with the ball…don't just kick it once and leave it for someone else, kick it again…don't take your eyes off the ball" just like he would when he practiced with her in the yard at our house. Our team got whooped, but that did not matter one bit to me because what I witnessed was beautiful and special. All the girls played hard…they have a great coach who encourages the right attitude of giving your best and having fun. My sweet baby girl was beaming and lighthearted when it was over, and I had such a thankful heart as we left the field. She knew her daddy was proud of her too.