Father's Daughter

They say be careful because the girl you marry will grow up to be just like her mother.... Well, I like to think I'm just like my mom SOMEWHERE, but really, I'm turning into my father instead. I do tease my dad about it. For example, I spill things on my shirt when I'm eating, and say, "Man, I am so my father's daughter!" (Actually, this happened Sunday night, and inspired this post.) I also rough-house and get extra cuddly with my children, and think, "I'm just like my dad." Dad, you'll love this one: I've even started telling my kids it's time for bed, at, like, 6 pm. (Them, not me, of course, but sometimes me, too!)

But I hope I'm learning some of my father's sense of duty. I hope I'm learning even a fraction of his generosity. If I had even half his generosity, I'd still be one of the most generous people I know. Dad gets the number one spot, hands down. I hope I've inherited some of his positive outlook -- I want to be able to tell my children the same things about the potential I see in them as he's always told me. I think I got some of his intelligence, and it's done well for me. I got his love for football (after I sat next to him and had him explain the rules to me.) He taught me how to put together furniture from a box (and love every minute of it.) He taught me, with tears in his eyes, to love the gospel because life was a dark place without it. He's taught me what patience and long-suffering look like, because he's been so patient and long-suffering with me and my parental abuse. *wry smile* And he's shown me what it means to listen to the Spirit and try to fulfill your responsibility as a parent. He gave me the best advice I've ever gotten, and I met my husband because I followed his counsel.

It's not Father's Day anymore, but I was thinking of you, Dad. Maybe it's because it's almost the Fourth of July and you also taught me your patriotism, and gave me my love for our flag. I was thinking of you even before you gave me a call today. Love you, Dad. You're one of the best men I know, and it's a compliment to my husband to tell him he's a lot like you sometimes. (I wish I had a picture of the two of us when I was little -- that one of you with your head on a rolled-up sleeping bag and me on your tummy. That's how I feel right now. I still feel like a little girl when I think of you, and miss your awesome hugs.)

Now I'm all weepy. Gotta get a tissue.