Loving my Dad

When I stop and think about it, my dad has taught me a lot of things. But I don’t know how often I stop and thank him for it or tell him how he has shaped my character.

One of those things is definitely the value of hard work. Growing up, he was always super handy around the house. He could fix anything. In fact, I can’t remember a time when something broke and we called somebody to fix it. Dad could always fix it.

When I was going into Jr High, we moved to a home in Spokane, WA. The house was built in the 70’s and, um, it looks like it was built in the 70’s. The house needed a little work and when we arrived we were in super cleaning mode. My sister and I given a bucket of water, ammonia and a couple of scrubbing brushes. Why?? Because the kitchen floor was a hideous golden brown. Gold from the linoleum and brown from the dirt pressed into it. We started in the corner and scrubbed.
And scrubbed.
And scrubbed.
“Add a little elbow grease!!” Dad suggested.
But as it would turn out, the floor really was that horrible shade of golden brown. But I do remember the day and laugh – and also treasure the lesson that you can clean anything and fix anything if you work hard.

Around this same time, I distinctly remember a Christmas gift that I gave to my Dad. I had a tight little Jr High budget, but I found a name brand plaid bathrobe at a garage sale. I was stoked. Oh, yeah, I was getting my dad something nice! I can clearly recall him trying it on. It was so small. The sleeves had a good few inches before they would reach his wrists. The tag said Medium. Um, it didn’t occur to me that it was medium boys not Medium mens. But my dad was great. And gracious. He didn’t laugh, he thanked me for the thoughtful gift, he didn’t make me feel bad at all.

That’s my dad. Hard working and gracious.
Here he is, being fun and loving on my kids. I’m loving my iphone camera on this one . . .