An Open Letter From Carrie

This post is part of a series of posts celebrating Father’s Day titled, “That Time My Kids Hacked My Blog.” To read more, click here.

Daddy,

One of my favorite things about you is how you relate to people. You don’t make other people fit in your box, rather you relate to them in a way that not only allows them the freedom to be themselves but you encourage it. You seek out the unique things about a person that make them, well, THEM. The way you have parented follows suit. I have watched you relate to Cassie and Joel at times and noticed how different it is from how you and I relate. I’ve never felt sad about that because I know this great quality about you. In fact, it makes me feel more special because I know that our relationship is one of a kind, even though you have three kids.

I like to think the way you and I relate is through “moments”. These little snapshots of time that make up significant and meaningful times that we share. We’ve never really talked about it out loud before, but sometimes when we catch each other’s eyes I feel like we are on the same page, having a moment. (If that’s not what you are thinking will you just pretend that it is since this is a public letter??) Some of our moments are big and life changing and some of them are just small conversations that soften my heart. All of them I treasure.

Here are a few of my favorites:

When I gave you the friendship bracelet. The moment isn’t special just because I wanted you to be friend. It’s special because you decided it was important to you. I DID think it was so cool that you would wear that bracelet everywhere with anything. I still vividly have that image of the orange bracelet next to your watch on your wrist for months and months.

When I was learning to read. I didn’t know how to read to myself without saying the words out loud. So you grabbed the closest thing you could find to hold between my lips so I wouldn’t move them while I read. It just happened to be one of those little matches that you tear out of the little tablets. (Ha!) So I sat there with a match held between my lips trying to not let it drop, so I could learn to read to myself.

That time we were riding in the car together and I was so afraid about the ozone layer. I’ll never forget the words you told me that day: “Never, never, never believe someone who would make you afraid of the future”. Those words created such a place in my heart and my head and I have come back to them in hard seasons. Seasons where I needed to be reminded that a Godly woman “laughs at the days to come”. You instilled so much truth in me through the years. Thank you for that.

When you found out my junior high band was playing Russian Christmas Music. I just remember how excited you were before my concert with me.

That time when I worked for you and also was a full-time college student and co-director of a large student organization on campus (which was like a full-time job) and I was STRESSED to the max. You said these words that I have conditioned myself to remember whenever I am stressed: “All you can do, is all you can do. And all you can do is enough.”

That time I had a run-in with a cotton field and had to have a guy tie a rope to Ruthie the Bug and pull her out of the dirt. You didn’t get mad at me when it cost $200 to fix my car and you hugged me and told me you were glad I was ok. And you never once (out loud) made fun of me for ending up in the field or questioned my ability to drive a car.

At my wedding. When you sat down with me to have a moment. I had forgotten everything from the rehearsal and I was freaking out, not about getting married, but about losing all of my memory of what I was supposed to do and say when even though I had planned the whole thing.

When my babies were born. There’s just something profound about having multiple generations in the same room together that creates a special moment. Thank you for being at every single one, waiting in the waiting room for “permission” to come in the room J. Your presence out there and your prayers for us was such a sense of security for me. AND THEN, you left the hospital room to write a letter to them. On the same note, you were also at all four of my kids dedications even when you had to drive halfway across the country. You prioritize the things that matter. That’s a gift.

The dinner you and I had at Cheesecake Factory when we mapped out our family history on both sides. Not only was that just fun and fascinating, it reminded me of our rich family heritage and allowed me to see the Lord’s faithfulness to our family (through good times and bad) to be near to us and to call us to Himself. I’ll never forget that night of sharing that together.

The time we talked about all of the grandkids and what we thought they would be like whenever they grow up. This is just another example of how you learn the people that you love. You get to know who they are and celebrate the things that make them unique.

You always celebrate the things we have in common: blogging, brown eyes, the belief that the toilet paper should pull out under the roll and not over, a love of children, and a love of words. Those are “moments” too.

Just like we have our own moments, I know you had your moments and memories with your dad. I can only imagine what today feels like for you. I feel so sad for you facing this day without him. The timing of it feels cruel. Too soon. I want you to know that I see you, gracefully grieving. Quietly pushing through. I don’t have the words to say in those moments. But every time, I pray for you, that the Lord would be near to your heart. That he would walk with you so closely. That you would eagerly and easily find rest in the safe place of His presence. My biggest prayer for you on this day, is that the Lord would remind you of your moments with HIMSELF. The ones only you know. The times that He has spoken to your heart and the significant words he has given you. The snapshots the two of you that make up significant and meaningful times in your life. These are the kinds of moments you share with a Dad.

Thank you for always loving me and for always being there and for always pointing me to truth. Happy 32^nd Father’s Day. I’m so glad you’re my Dad and I’m so thankful for our moments.

Love,

Carrie