My dad worked second shift most of my early growing up days, but he made it a point to come to school functions, volleyball games (even though I NEVER got to play), my Bible Drill competitions, and other various "important" activities for my brother and I. When I got in trouble for not completing an assignment at school, I remember my Dad sitting down with me at the kitchen table to help me with my homework--something he never did because he worked second shift. (I have no idea how he managed to be there unless it was a weekend or he had taken time off work. I've never thought to ask him.) The first thing Dad made me do was put my name, date, and the class and assignment information at the top of the page. I don't remember much more about that study session, but I do know that I made good grades throughout the rest of my education and to this day, I still date and label EVERYTHING and I encourage my son and my students to do the same.
I don't think I was a bad kid. I lived to please, so I was not in trouble all that often. When I was, though, punishment was swift and severe. One time in particular, my cousin and I had talked and giggled all through church in spite of the fact that I knew better and my dad had given me "the look" several times throughout the service. When we got home, Dad took both my cousin and I out to the barn where he proceeded to paddle me in front of my cousin. I have NEVER misbehaved in church since! (This was NOT child abuse. It was a clear, just punishment for a wrong I had committed.)
It wasn't too long after that incident when Dad actually quit spanking me. It makes me smile to remember how he would pull me into a room, away from my brother, and lecture me about what I had done wrong and why I was being punished. Then he would tell me to bend over and proceed to hit the bottom of his shoe! I was warned NOT to tell my brother and to be sure I cried so Kenny (my brother) would believe I had been spanked! Believe me, crying was NOT difficult!!! LOL!
My Dad was always so very loving that when the punishments came, I knew I had deserved them and that he was truly punishing me because he loved me. The very first Bible verse I had ever learned was, "Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right" (Ephesians 6:1, KJV). I took that lesson very seriously. I wanted to do what was right, so I always tried to be a good girl. I think I was--mostly. My dad rewarded us often with compliments and other things that I tried never to take for granted. A trip to McDonald's was a real treat! As was a visit to Baskin Robbins! Dad was never too terribly demonstrative with his love and affection, but it was always clear to me that he loved me.
One thing I loved doing with my dad was watch certain tv shows and movies. I started watching James Bond movies at such a young age, I feel as if I have always been a Bond fan. I even wanted to grow up to be a Bond girl! I always loved watching football with my dad and brother, too. They loved it, so I loved it. I became a fan of Barbra Streisand because my dad loved her. Dad loved country music, especially Hee Haw and Roger Miller; I became a fan of those as well. Dad had these Roger Miller records and whenever I was home alone (which wasn't too terribly often), I would put on one of those records, play it as loud as I dared, and sang along at the top of my lungs! Dad also enjoyed the comedy of Jose Jimenez. I listened to his record so much, I not only had it practically memorized, but even 40 years later, I will quote Jose!
Mom and Dad both were my very first teachers. They taught VBS or Children's Church and they always did things (activities) that were fun and quite memorable. I still remember many of their lessons and, more than that, I model my teaching style after them. My friends and I always loved it when it was my parents' turn to teach class.
One thing my dad did when I was little that made me feel extra-special was he took me with him on a trip to Florida to visit his parents. It was something like a 12-hour trip and, according to him, I talked to him THE WHOLE WAY THERE! Apparently I felt it was my "job" to help keep him awake while he drove. That trip made me feel as if my dad loved me just a little bit better than he did my [perfect] brother and I reveled in the feeling. Yes, I'll go so far as to say I glowed in his love.
When it was time to go to college, my parents made sure that I had that opportunity. I had wanted to go to a Bible College. Yes, in part to get my "MRS" degree, but I also honestly wanted a Biblically-based college education. Because my brother was only a year older and had chosen East Carolina University, to save money (and I'm sure a whole host of other reasons), my parents made me go there, too. I was crushed. My dad told me, though, that if I gave ECU one year, then at the end of that year, we would re-evaluate and decide about a Bible College then. Of course I readily agreed. (Note: once I started at ECU, I never thought about leaving or Bible college again--until I started dating a man who planned to go to Bible college.)
When I first got married, I thought I understood Love. I was so very much in love with my new
husband. He was so excited to be married and begin living my life with the man I had chosen to spend the rest of my life with. My dad gave me away and, in spite of the fact that I adored my parents, I was ready to move on--to move out. My new husband and I moved a few months later to Missouri (we live in NC) where we lived for the next three and a half years while my husband went to Bible College.
Out of all our family, only one of my husband's 12 siblings came to visit us while we were in Missouri--with his family. All of my family came to visit, especially my parents. We lived there back when it cost a lot of money to make long-distance phone calls, so I didn't get to talk to my parents but maybe once a week. When my husband wanted to stay in Missouri for a few years after he graduated, my mom and dad helped him see what a bad idea that was by getting their pastor at the time to have my husband go home to be their pastor for a month while he (their regular pastor) went on a month-long vacation. I started packing the day I put my husband on the airplane! He called within a week to tell me that he thought we needed to go ahead and move back home even if it meant living with my parents until he got his first pastorate. My mom and dad were the ones who came to help us move back to NC. The only ones. We could not have moved as we did if they had not come.
My mom and dad have always been my solid rock. I always knew I could rely on and depend on them, no matter what, But it wasn't until we lost our precious James Isaac that I TRULY understood the depth of my parents' love for me--my dad's in particular.
We had seen on the ultrasound that our worst fear was true and had made the decision to go ahead and induce my labor. My doctor asked if there was anyone we needed to call. I told him that yes, I needed to call my mom and dad. (My husband's parents had both passed by this time.) My doctor told us to go ahead and use the office phone in spite of the fact that it was a long-distance call. I don't think they ever charged us for that phone call.
I dialed the number and when my dad answered in his customary cheery, "Praise the Lord, Kinseys!" I said, "Daddy? Oh, daddy?"
That was all I said. But my Daddy KNEW. He immediately asked me if James was there and to hand him the phone. My husband proceeded to tell my dad what was going on while I wept.
Several hours later, Mom and Dad finally arrived. We live four hours apart, so they came as quickly as they could. They hugged me as best they could considering I was in a hospital bed hooked up to tubes and wires and such. I noticed a nasty bruise around my mom's wrist. When I asked her what had happened, she told me that when she had gotten home from work, she was rushing around like a chicken with her head cut off in anticipation of getting supper ready, so my dad couldn't get a word in edge-wise. To get her attention, he grabbed her wrist, leaving the bruise.
The only time in my whole life I have ever known my dad to hurt anyone.
I'd always known I was loved by both my parents. That was never a question. What I didn't know--truly understand--was the depth of their love for me. It shames me to say that I have often taken them and their love for me for granted. My dad has been THE example of what a true Daddy is. He has shown me by his love for me the love of my Heavenly Father and has taught me that because of his love for me, I am Special and Important--even when I don't feel special or important.
It is a shame that so many of us don't appreciate the love our parents have for us until we are older and/or have children of our own. I know this isn't everyone, but I'm sure I'm not the only one. I wish I could say that I have always been aware of the depth of their love for me, but the sad truth is that it wasn't until that moment when my Daddy KNEW when all I was able to say were three words that the full impact of his love for me hit me.
So on this Father's Day, when I say that I LOVE and appreciate my Daddy and that he is THE GREATEST Daddy in the world, I say it from the deepest part of my heart and soul with every fiber of my being......because my Daddy loved me first.
I love you, Daddy. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo