I have the greatest dad in the whole wide world. Seriously. My dad could take your dad in anything and win. Well, except maybe singing, where he’d place a respectable 3rd or 4th.
I’ve always admired my father. Ever since I can remember, he’s been a quiet,giant of a man who squeezes more pleasure out of the little things than I can possibly fathom. I like that about him. Whether it is staking tomato plants, or raising chickens, or working on old trucks, I love how he makes so much out of so little. I think I was possibly born with much of his technical skill, but with none of his patience. You’ll never find someone more patient than my father. That is a testament to his resourcefulness. To this day, I can take him a broken “toy” and he’ll fix it with the tools in his pocket or his ever cluttered, but completely organized workbench. As much as I’ve tried to emulate him over the years, he continues to amaze me with the things he can do. He keeps setting the bar higher and higher for me.
One of the things he put on his wish list for Father’s Day was to be able and available to help his kids with anything they needed done. He has always been that selfless. Growing up, even as I was immature and selfish for many of those years, I think I unconsciously knew that my father sacrificed many things for his family and particularly for his kids. Looking back over the years, I can’t remember one time ever feeling that dad missed out because if he did, he never said a word. When we moved to Texas in the summer of 1986, I didn’t realize then, as a teenager, that my parents were putting it all on the line for our family. We had no money, a tiny place to live, and Dad had just barely been hired at Bell Helicopter. The Lord really blessed us, even during those years, and I firmly believe much of it came from my father’s willingness to do whatever it takes. There is not a job he wouldn’t do to provide for his family, and to this day we have all benefited from his sacrifice.
I never understood that sacrifice until the night of our daughter’s birth. Many of you know that Gaby was born with PPHN, a cardiopulmonary disorder which kept her in the NICU for 7 days. The picture below is the first one taken of Gaby, and the first image I had of her when I walked in the NICU that night. My wife was 3 floors above us, in pain and recovering from a C-section. In the suddenness and blackness of that night, as I clung to my mother and sobbed, I finally understood the sacrifices my father made year after year after year. The love deep within me that I never knew existed that cried out to God to please have me take her place, to please release her from the pain and suffering, and have me own that burden, not her.
I never knew I had it in me, and for the first time, Dad, I got it. I get it. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for my daughter. Nothing.
So here’s to you, Dad. You are the greatest man I know, and I will continue to emulate you and strive to be more like you every day of my life. I love watching you with Gaby because even as you both grow older, I see the cords of your hearts binding together tighter and tighter as she learns all about her Papa and what makes him tick. As she learns and grows, I get the bonus of re-discovering and relishing all of the things I love about who you are. Your fingerprints will be all over her, and generations behind her, because of your selfless love and dedication to your family.
I love you, Dad. Happy Father’s Day.
Jarrod
