Happy Father’s Day!
In a completely original move, I am going to talk about my dad on Father’s Day. 🙂
But seriously, he is worthy of a whole blog post, if not much more. He truly is an amazing man. So let’s take a stroll down memory lane, and I’ll tell you a little bit about my dad.
When I was little, I was always so excited whenever I got to do anything with my dad. I remember when we first moved to a certain city in Indonesia, and I was helping my dad put together the beds in my sister’s and my room. I got to hand him the nails, and I felt so proud. I remember when he would go play tennis early in the mornings, and sometimes he let me go with him (I got to chase the tennis balls for him). I was young enough that chasing the tennis balls was huge fun for me, but most of all I felt so proud that my dad took me someplace with him, just the two of us in the early morning. Another time I remember him going on a hike with some of the other missionaries in Indonesia. He took me along, and I was so proud to be climbing in those hills with him.
My favorite memory of my dad and me when I was younger was when we would hike to this waterfall. I was too short to go out real deep in the water, but my dad would pick me up and hold me in his arms, wading out in the deepening pool. He would carry me to the waterfall, and I’d wrap my arms around him tighter and bury my face. He’d take me under the water and it would pound the breath out of me. I was never scared, because my dad was the one holding me.
As I grew older, I remember starting to play soccer at age nine. My dad played soccer all through high school and college, so he would give me tips and play outside with me. In middle school he would help coach my school’s soccer team. When the kids first saw my dad kick, they said “We know where you got your hard kick from!” And I felt very proud.
Another time, someone asked if I was left-handed because I wore my watch on my right hand. “No,” I answered, confused. I wondered why I had started wearing my watch on my right hand though I was right handed. Only much later did I realize that, since my dad was left-handed, I had probably unconsciously imitated him since a young age.
As I grew older still, I remember in my teen years when my mom first started telling me, “You are so much like your dad!” I was surprised because I’d always thought I was like my mom. But by the time I was in my late teens and early twenties, my mom was constantly laughing about how much I was like my dad. And every time I heard it, I felt very proud.
I love my dad. We have had our arguments and difference, probably because we are so much alike. But he is truly a great man. He is passionate, and he is a visionary. He loves my mom and his daughters. I know without a doubt he would give his life for any of his family, and many others. And he does spend his life finding new ways to help people around the world. He loves God and has faithfully served and trusted Him through many situations in life.
I wish I could tell you more and more about how amazing he is and how much I admire him. But this will have to do for now.
Whenever my mom says, to this day, “You are so much like your dad!” … well, I just smile and shrug. I take that as a compliment.