Daddy

I have wanted to write this post since before Thanksgiving. Then my blog page went nuts. I'm going to try now. This will most likely be very long! Anyone that has lost a loved one knows that there are times when their memories over whelm you. Several post were written with memories of lost parents and the holidays are upon us; that's the only reason I can think of that caused me to want to write about my Daddy.

Where to start?!
I can remember my dad taking me to the bar with him. I would sit out back and drink a Sprite while he played a few games of pool. When I was in the 3rd grade we moved into a house that was accross the street from a ball park. I remember dad loading the furniture onto his car and driving it down the street to our new home. He used to sit in the back yard and watch the games and share a beer with the dog. There were evenings when my sister would sit in his lap and share Jesus with him. We used to plant a garden in the back yard. Carrots, corn and radishes is what I remember. One year we were planting a tree or bush or something. I was all excited and primed to help. I had just spent the afternoon helping plant trees at school with the girl scouts so I knew it all. I didn't hesitate to let my dad know this as he tried to stop me from going elbow deep into the bag of what I thought was soil. He wisely just let me do my thing. When I was done he let me know that the 'soil' I had just dove into was actually manure.

When I was around 9 yrs old I had frequent UTI's. For some reason when I got an infection they always drew my blood. Lucky me my dad was a lab tech. So all I had to do was go to the lab and see my dad. He was great! I used to be able to go to the lab with him and look into the microscopes at the blood cells. He used to have to manually count all the white and red blood cells. Then he got a new job and no longer worked in the lab. I remember being quite old and needing to have my throat swabed or something like that. We went to the lab that my dad used to work in and I cried like a baby because my dad wasn't there to do what needed to be done.

My dad and I could become angry and shout and yell at each other and then 10 minutes later be ok with each other, no harm done. Course now as a mother I wonder about the no harm done part. He was human and I'm sure the things I said and the tone I used hurt. He never let on though. I could always talk to him.

He used to let me drive the car too. He drove a 1964 valiant. It had the push buttons to change into drive and park and the lever for reverse. It was fun. I started out sitting in his lap. I eventually graduated to sitting in the seat by myself. He used to take me to Sunday evening church for youth choir. We would drive around the corner so mom wouldn't see and trade places, I would drive until we got to the next main busy road and then we'd trade back. Then one day I got silly about something and turned the corner wrong. Just about took out a telephone pole, a mail box and stopped just short of the chain link fence. I thought it was great fun until I looked at dad; he was white. I don't remember him being angry, nor do I remember driving to church again until I got my permit.

Dad didn't go to church with us very often, but he did go from time to time. It was grand fun when he went. We always sat on the back row and sang those hymns at the top of our lungs and quite off key. Then we'd see who could get out of their Sunday clothes the fastest. Then one of us got smart. I honestly can't remember who started it, most likely my dad, but we started laying out our clothes and then that escalated to tying knots in each others clothes. Imangine racing in to change only to find the legs of your jeans tied in a knot.

When I was a teenager I got mono and would have terrible headachs! I would wake in the night and roam the house crying. Dad would wake and tuck me back into bed and sit with me with a cool cloth on my face until I could go back to sleep. I also remember him waking with me when my stomach was sick and he'd hold my head while I was sick. Oh, and when I got a chest cold he would spread vicks all over my chest and pin a t-shirt around me. YUCK! ( I was a little girl for the vicks, not a teenager)

One night I had to close McDonald's where I worked. It was always late on the week ends and this particular night a friend and I sat in the parking lot talking. We talked about a little of every thing including his Morman religion. As we talked I looked up and here came my dad's car down the back alley. When I asked my friend he told me it was 2am. As my dad drove by with the window down and his head out the window I hollered that I would be right home. He got home just a little before me. I told him I was so sorry that I had no idea how late it was, he hugged my neck and went to bed.

This next story is funnier when Michael tells it. One night Michael and I decided to go to the movie but we had to hurry to make it on time. So when he gets to my house he just honks the horn. Oh boy! When I got up I was told to sit. The way Michael tells it: this big long hairy arm comes out the door and a finger beckons him inside. Then my 6 foot daddy let my Mr. Wonderful know that NO man ever honks the horn for his little girl. Wow. I stood 6 feet tall as I left to see our movie. My daddy was the one to name Michael Mr. Wonderful. :)

My daddy loved a good thunder storm! When I was little and frigthened he would sit with my sister and I and we would count between the lightening and thunder. If it was a day time thunder storm dad would turn off the AC and all the lights. Then he would open the windows and prop his feet on the front window sill and watch the storm. Daddy taught me to love the thunder storms.

One day as I was beginning my day I dropped my contact lens down the drain. I hurriedly turned off the water and called daddy. "Could it be in the curved pipe? Would you come see for me please?" Daddy came with his tools and actually found my contact lens. Then he told me to stop up the drain next time. Well, in 7 some odd years of wearing lenses I had never plugged the drain. About a week later I did it again!! I called daddy. "Daddy, please don't be angry" Before I could finish explaining he said he'd be over. Once again he arrived with tools and this time a drain stopper and retrieved my lens.

My daddy pinned my nursing pin to me at my graduation and he gave my hand in marriage.
I have to back up a second. When Michael asked dad for my hand in marriage dad ask that Michael not take me to the other side of the tracks. Daddy didn't want to travel a long way to see me. At the time Michael had no idea what his orders would be. So, when he got orders he assured my dad that he was keeping me on the West side of the tracks; in California. Daddy never did come to California, not that I remember. Just too far.

Daddy did make it to Cherry Point several times to see his grand babies. He and mom even came and stayed a week with the kids when Michael came home from Desert Storm.
When taking care of 2 kids and a high maintanince dog became too much my dad gladly took my dog. He had an amazing bond with that dog!

When my sister got married my dad became the center of attention. There was much disscussion about whether on not he was really saved. How could he have a drinking problem and REALLY be saved. Finally after severl years of debate, my husband who had taken the Operation Go classes called my dad. They had a long conversation. When Michael got off the phone he told me that my daddy believed with all his heart that he would be in heaven and Michael stated that he had no reason to doubt it. I know Michael went through all the scripture and turned it all every which way, because that is how my husband went soul winning. So, I am at peace with the fact that my daddy is in heaven.

When my dog, the one daddy adopted from me, passed away, mom said that my daddy just cried and cried. When he buried that dog he looked at my mom and told her that no one had better even think of telling him there would be no dogs in heaven. (apparently this had been a disagreed upon topic at one time)

I'm sure I have left out a million good memories; I intentionally left out the not so good ones, though there were plenty to balance the good.

I like to think of my dad sitting in his lawn chair with his feet kicked up and a dog in his lap watching the thunder storms with Jesus at his side.

Through the years I've heard it said the little girls tend to have the same relationship with Jesus as they did with their dad. I never really understood that, my daddy drank and was kind of absent from time to time. However, in losing my dad and being able to remember the good with the not so good I realize that my relationship with Jesus is just like the one I had with my daddy.
Daddy was always there for me when I sought him out, I could say anything to him, and I NEVER doubted my daddy's love for me! Jesus is that for me, always there and always loving.