16 posts tagged “daughter”

I was talking to a friend this past weekend and we both agreed how important it is to enjoy our children. I think if I could pass along just one piece of advice to a new parent it would be just that. Enjoy your kids. Spend time with them. Let them know that you love them. Don't be so wrapped up in television or sports or making money that you find yourself waking up one day wondering how they grew up so fast.

There are going to be disagreements, but that has to be expected. No one said raising children would be easy and anyone who has done it can attest that it isn't. Just suck it up, accept the bad with the good and keep right on trying to be the best parent that you can be.

To this day, nothing makes me smile like one of my kids telling me that they love me. Well, maybe if they add a hug along with it.

Raising kids is hard and definitely has its challenges. When my daughter was about five years old she decided to start acting up while were were shopping. She wasn't doing anything really bad, but she just wasn't acting the way I expected her to in public. I have seen children run wild in stores and sometimes even throw temper tantrums and fall on the ground while the parent ignores them or tries to plead with them to stop. Not me. I would warn my kids and if that didn't work we were going outside to discuss their behavior.

Knowing my daughter the way I do it hardly seems possible now, but she somehow managed to push it too far and we headed outside, hand in hand, for our discussion. She walked begrudgingly beside me and as we neared the door she started pulling on my hand, trying to get away. Tears started forming and before I even knew what happened she wailed at the top of her lungs, "Please don't beat me Daddy!" Now, I have never beat my children. I have applied the board of education to the seat of knowledge on occasion, but I have never beat them. 

Heads turned and all eyes seemed to fall upon me. It was one of those surreal moments, kind of like you would see in an old westerm movie. You know what I'm talking about: the bad guy walks through the swinging door into the saloon and the place becomes silent as everyone stops to look. Well, in this case I turned out to be the bad guy.  

That was one of the most awkward moments in my life. I felt like every person in there was going to rush to the phone and call child services. Needless to say, part of our discussion included not yelling out, "Please don't beat me Daddy " in public, or anytime for that matter.

Kids... what would life be without them?

Preston Walters rolled his eyes and sighed heavily as warm air started coming from the air conditioning vents. This always happened when he was in the car line; it was one of the reasons that he hated picking Misty up from school. He shut the air off and pushed down on the electric window buttons. The front, passenger window glided down with ease, but the other three stayed put. He slammed down on the buttons with his fingertips repeatedly, hoping to get some kind of reaction, but the windows didn’t budge.  

 By the time he got to the pick-up point he was soaked with sweat and totally frustrated. Misty saw his car and started jumping up and down, waving excitedly. When the all clear signal was given she ran to the window and shrieked, “Hi Daddy!”

In a sour voice he uttered, “I’m hot. Just get in the car so we can get out of here.”

She opened the door and jumped in, throwing a pink book bag in the floorboard. Totally oblivious of his bad mood, she said, “I like it when you pick me up Daddy.”

Preston looked her way, forced a smile and lied. “So do I Honey. So do I.”

Misty talked non-stop all the way home, going into great detail about every minute of her day. Preston simply drove and half listened, offering an obligatory, “Really?” or, “You don’t say?” during the rare quiet moments. When they reached the house Misty jumped out as soon as the car stopped. Before he could even get out of the car she was bursting through the front door. As he watched her run inside he could hear her small, excited voice, “Mommy, Mommy! Guess what I did today?” Preston sighed and leaned over to pick up the book bag.

Later on that day, while walking to the garden, he relived his drive home with Misty. He didn’t like the way that he felt toward his six year old daughter, but he just couldn’t seem to get over it. Misty was their third child and the only one that wasn’t planned. In fact, she was a total surprise, coming nine years after Tiffany and eleven years after Jack, now a senior in high school. He thought about having one child ready to graduate while another was just starting out. He suddenly felt tired… and very old.

He stopped at the gate and looked out onto the garden. This was his favorite place to be, his silent escape from life. He spent at least thirty minutes a day here pulling weeds, picking off bugs, looking for new growth and just enjoying the time outside. It always helped him get his mind straight. His eyes moved to the end of the garden. There, completely covering the fence was the plant that had become the central point of his backyard getaway.

He had found it about a month before, one little leaf poking out of the ground at the end of the bean row. He had started to pull it up, but it looked like a squash plant, so he left it where it was. He checked it almost daily and the little plant seemed to take on a life of its own. Before long it had put out large green leaves and Preston decided that it was a pumpkin. Then, it started branching out with long, wispy tendrils that reached out and took hold of the fence. One day he looked in on it and a beautiful white flower had opened up. There, attached to the flower, was a small green fruit shaped like an hourglass. He knew then what it was; it was a gourd.

Disappointed, he thought about pulling it up. It was, after all, in the bean row. Besides, you can’t even eat gourds. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He enjoyed watching it too much. So, he left it where it was and every day since then he had rushed out to the garden to check on it. He spent a lot of time manipulating the vines so they would grow up the fence and it had practically covered every square inch of it. He was amazed how something that started out so small could grow so quickly. 

Preston was still admiring the gourd plant when he felt something brush against his leg. He looked down and saw Misty. Her small hands were holding onto the chain link gate and her face was pressed up against it so that one eye was staring through a rusty link. She only said five words, “I like your garden Daddy,” and then she looked up at him and smiled. Then, as quickly as she was there, she was gone.

Preston watched her skip away and a disturbing thought crossed his mind. Misty was, in fact, just like his precious gourd plant. The gourd plant came up unexpectedly; so did Misty. The gourd plant showed up in the wrong row; Misty showed up in the wrong part of his life. He was disappointed when he found out what the gourd plant really was; he was disappointed when he found out his wife was pregnant with Misty.

His heart melted as he thought about Misty. Was he treating this gourd plant better than he was treating his own daughter? How much time had he actually spent with her, talking to her, really listening to what she had to say? Was it possible that he was holding a grudge against her for coming along so late in his life? Was he actually blaming her for some of his marital and financial problems? The more he meditated on it the more he shamefully realized that it was all true.

 He thought a moment and then looked back toward the flowing plant at the end of the garden. He had been so wrong about that plant. In a matter of weeks, with a little care and nurturing, it had become the centerpiece of his garden. What if he would have pulled it up when it was just coming out of the ground? He would have never gotten to watch it grow or see it bloom. He would have missed out on so much.  What was he missing out on with Misty by acting the way he was?

A sound shook him out of his thoughts and he turned to see Misty running across the yard with her arms held straight out to the side of her body. She turned and waved, “Come play with me Daddy.”

Preston looked at his garden, then back at Misty. He could almost hear the gourd plant silently pleading with him to step inside the gate. There was a moment of indecision. Then, somewhere in the back of his mind a distant voice spoke to him, Go play with her.

He spoke out loud, in answer to the voice, “But what about the garden?”

The voice answered back, Are you raising a garden or are you raising a daughter?

The question shocked him and he was still thinking about it when Misty called out to him again, “Come on Daddy, play with me. Please?” She stopped right in front of him, arms still extended, making bubbly airplane noises. Then, she stepped forward, wrapped her arms around his legs and said, “I love it when we play together Daddy.”

Suddenly the garden didn’t look so enticing and he found himself leaning over to hug her back. With a slight tremor in his voice he said, “So do I Honey. So do I.” And this time, he really meant it. 

Well, I am sitting in my daughter's kitchen using her laptop to update my blog.  We surprised her by arriving extremely early yesterday.  We had planned on leaving early in the morning to make the six hour trip, so we packed the Jeep the night before. For some reason, my wife and I were both up at 2 am, so we got dressed, hauled the boys out of bed and managed to get on the road. I'm glad we got here so early; it was worth it to spend the extra time with her.

So far it has been a pleasant visit. The funniest thing has been the dogs. We brought our little dog with us and they have a lab/pit bull mix. At first, they didn't know what to think about each other. Ours was especially aggressive and scared to death. But, after they got to know one another, they started playing around. We've got some pretty funny pictures of them playing, but the one below just cracks me up. It looks like the little Chihuahua just gave the big dog a right cross:

Tinkerbell takes Arizona down for the count!

I remember walking my daughter, Amanda, down the aisle when she was married back in December. My wife was standing in a row near the front of the church and as my daughter and I passed by I ran my hand out to her and she squeezed it gently. I remember seeing tears in her eyes, but I was too focused my own emotions to fully comprehend what was going on with anyone else.

After the wedding, my wife and I shed quite a few tears together and in the months since we have talked about how much we miss our daughter. It wasn’t until yesterday, however, that I fully understood what she went through on the day that I walked Amanda down the aisle.

We attended a wedding and it was similar to my daughter’s wedding. As a matter of fact, the bride was even named Amanda. For some reason, when the father was escorting his daughter down the aisle, I focused all of my attention on the mother of the bride.

When the bridal march started, I could see her standing there in anticipation, smiling widely. Then, as I caught them slowly moving down the aisle out of the corner of my eye, I watched the smile slowly start to fade and the tears began to flow. It was obvious that she had been overtaken with emotion. As they drew closer to her, the smile came back, but this time it wasn’t quite as wide and it was tainted with the kind of grief that only a mother can feel.

It’s a hard thing to take when your children grow up and move on with their lives. It’s true, relationships change, but that is the nature of life – it is full of constant change. That’s why it’s so important to relish the times that we have with our children, to let them know that we love them, to hold them close whenever we can. Every moment we have on this earth is fleeting, and we should always try to make the best of each and every one.  

I know now, even more than I knew before, that I wasn’t the only one who walked my daughter down the aisle on her wedding day. No, even though I passed by her and briefly touched her hand, my wife was there beside me all the way to the end. And when I placed my daughter’s hand in the hand of the young man who was pledging to take care of her for the rest of his life, I'm sure my wife knew what I was going through because, emotionally, she got there before I did.  

Throughout my day at Islands of Adventure yesterday, I saw families walking around together. Some of them were laughing and having a good time and others were visibly frustrated at one another. Even though I had a great time with my son, I couldn't help but wish my whole family was there together.

At one point, I saw a dad pushing a stroller, desperately trying to make his way through the crowds, while a child of about one slept soundly in the shaded seat, totally oblivious to the chaos around him. Having been in that position myself, I moved out of the way and let him pass. He looked at me with a thankful look on his red, sweaty face and did his best to move on through the hordes of people. I watched him go and a pang of nostalgia gripped my heart.

My children are ages 20, 16 and 12. The way they are spaced apart, it seemed like we had one in a stroller for at least 10 years running. I remember those years well and the constant attention that it required to bring up a child. Now that they are older though, it seems like the time just flew by.

The worst part for me yesterday was seeing all of the dads with their daughters. I don't even know how to write this without making it sound like I am partial to my daughter over my sons. The only thing I can say is that I love my children equally, but there is just something different in the father/daughter relationship. 

We came off of one ride and a father and his daughter of about 10 were walking toward us. She was excited about something and she was talking loudly, waving her arms as she spoke. Then, about the time they got beside us, the dad leaned over and said something to her that I couldn't hear. I knew right away, however, that it was something goofy because the girl stopped walking, rolled her eyes, put her hands on her hips and said, "You're so silly Daddy!" I thought I was going to break down in tears right then. I don't know how many times I've heard Amanda say that to me.

Saying goofy things used to be (and still is) one of my favorite things to do with my daughter. For example, any time I was around her when she threw something, the words that always came out of my mouth were, "You throw like a girl."

She always answered with a heavy sigh and a loud, "I am a girl."

I know, it's goofy and it's dumb, but what can I say? I am eternally afflicted with the overwhelming desire to say goofy and dumb things to my daughter. I know she appreciates it, though, because yesterday I talked to her on the phone after we left the park and she was telling me about an older gentlemen that she and her husband knew. Out of nowhere, she says, "He says all of these corny things. I think you would really like him."

Feigning surprise, I said, "What? What is that supposed to mean?"

She just laughed and kind of struggled with her words, "Well... you know... I mean... you would just like him."

To be honest, I have tried the goofy remark thing with the boys, but they just don't appreciate it. I think it must be something that God only intended for dads and their daughters. With the boys, I kid around, but we have a different kind of relationship. 

No matter what kind of relationship I have with my children, one thing is certain. I am thankful to God Almighty for allowing me the priveledge of being part of their lives. My life has been, and continues to be, all the richer because I am a dad.  

My daughter recently wrote a funny story about a spider that made its home underneath the dashboard of her car. It is an amusing story and one that I can totally see happening to her. 

I miss her terribly. We have a special relationship, my daughter and I, and we had some really great times together when she was growing up. Sometimes it's hard for me to believe that she is married and living six hours away. For the longest time after she left, we would go into restaurants and when the hostess would ask how many I would say, "Five." Then, I would remember that she wasn't with us and have to change it to, "Four."

Anyway, before I start bawling and short out the keyboard with tears, check out my daughter's story. I think you will find it amusing. You can read it on her blog HERE.

I somehow managed to get her down the aisle. I can't say that I remember much of the walk except for the fact that I was trying really hard not to lose it.  

The Walk

My daughter wrote the following letter and the pastor read it at the wedding while we were standing arm in arm in front of him and her husband to be. She gave me the promise ring just before I kissed her and placed her hand in his. I am so proud of her for making this commitment and following through with it. It was such a special part of the ceremony. 

"For this is the will of God, your sanctification; that is that you abstain from sexual immorality. That each of you know how to possess his own vessel in sanctification and honor” I Thessalonians 4:3-4.

Ever since I can remember, my parents have taught me what it means to be a vessel to God; that He is the only reason for living and that everything God has given us should be used to bring glory back to Him. When I was approaching my thirteenth birthday, my parents and I did a study together emphasizing that He also wanted us to serve Him with our bodies, by staying pure. I made a commitment on my thirteenth birthday to remain sexually pure until my wedding day, and my dad gave me a ring to wear to symbolize the promise I was making. I was promising to remain physically pure, but as I grew older I realized that being sexually pure includes mental and emotional aspects as well. I want to thank my parents for encouraging me to follow through with that promise and always keeping me accountable. It was a commitment that I am so happy that I made, especially as I stand here today beside my soon to be husband, and am able to say that he will be my one and only. I am so grateful that God gave me two such wonderful parents to be Godly examples to me, and that have guided me and encouraged me to be all that God wants me to be. I look up to them more than they will ever know. I am giving my dad back this ring, not as a symbol that I always did things perfect, and not that I am some flawless person, but as a symbol that I have remained true to the promise I made seven years ago to my parents, to God and to my future husband to keep myself sexually pure. I want my life to reflect nothing but God’s grace and love, and I have always hoped this day would bring Him nothing but glory, my parents nothing but pride, and my husband nothing but happiness. I hope I have accomplished this goal. Thank you mom and dad for making this day so wonderful.

The wedding went off without any problems and was absolutely beautiful. I even managed to escort her down the aisle without crying, although the lip was trembling a few times. I looked down the aisle on the way and saw my wife smiling at me with tears in her eyes. I almost lost it then, but still managed to hold it together. I touched her hand as I passed by and we shared a special moment. Neither one of us said anything, but I felt it. It was like we both said, "Everything will be alright." And everything was alright. From the beginning music at the wedding to the reception and everything in between, all was perfect. Hopefully, I can get some pictures up soon.

When it came time for the father/daughter dance I was ready. Tim McGraw's "My Little Girl" played while I held my daughter on the dance floor. It was all worth it when she looked up at me and said, "Thanks for everything Daddy, I'm so happy." It was obvious that she was too. I watched her flit and flutter for the rest of the reception and it was easy to see that she was more happy than she had ever been in her life. I guess that's when I was finally able to let go. My little girl now has a new man and he has promised to love her and take care of her for the rest of his life. I have absolutely no doubt that he will do that and I wish them both all the happiness in the world.   

It's just before 6 am and I've slept as long as I'm going to. I haven't really slept much this whole past week; nervous about the wedding today I guess.

We had the rehearsal dinner last night and it wasn't everything that I hoped it would be. Well, the dinner was nice, it was the rehearsal that didn't go quite right. The wedding coordinator that our church required wasn't really on top of her game and didn't give very good instructions. It took us way too long to go through it and even now I'm not sure everyone got what they are supposed to be doing and when. When it was all over, my daughter had an emotional "meltdown" from the stress. I'm just praying that it all falls together this afternoon.

Speaking of "meltdowns"... I was sure I had a handle on walking her down the aisle, but the first time we practiced it, I thought I was going to lose it. As the music played and we slowly walked arm in arm toward the front of the church, a big ole' lump lodged itself right in my throat. It took all I had to hold back the tears last night... I can't even imagine what it will be like this afternoon.