Daddy's Little Girl

On this Father's Day, I want to take a minute to share some of the reasons why I love my my daddy so much. (Yes, I will always call him "Daddy" and I will always be Daddy's little girl). God has blessed me exponentially by giving me such a wonderful man to call my daddy. I love him more than words can really explain, but I'll still give it a try.

I love my daddy because...

My hand always fit perfectly inside of his.

He always gave me goodnight kisses.

He was never too busy or tired to play tickle monster.

He took me hiking, camping, backpacking, and fishing.

He abandoned some of his "manly" duties to braid my hair.

He played diving games with my sister and me until we were pruney.

He always encouraged me to set high standards and go for my dreams.

He chose to stay committed to his family.

He exemplifies faith and devotion to God.

He's not afraid to be goofy.

He taught me how to throw, catch, and bat.

He danced with me to Sleeping Beauty.... "I know you. I walked with you once upon a dream."

He treated me like a princess but also taught me the value of hard work.

He loved me no matter what, and he still does.

Thank you, Daddy, for being everything I could ever want in a father. I love you!

Words

I was reading back through little journal entries and random stories I have written over the past couple of years, and I found this. It reminded me why I try to keep writing, even if it's brief updates on my blog or scattered prayers in a notebook. It reminded me of the power of words.

I love words. I love the way language can move, inspire, captivate, and express. The way a certain word can convey an idea that is entirely unique based on its context and connotations. Words are the windows to how we see the world. The words we hear escape the lips of our loved ones can shape the way we love, the way we learn, the way we live. It may sound cheesy or idealistic, but words have paved paths in all directions of my life. My love of words began early on. For as long as I can remember, I have been writing. Writing my prayers, writing my thoughts, writing my experiences or lack of experiences, and now writing a combination of everything, including the daydreams that consume my days and nights. My mother says that I inherited my love of words from my grandfather. When he passed away several years ago, she found numerous pieces of scratch paper scattered around his apartment. These bits of paper contained everything: inspirational quotes, my grandfather’s own insights, unusual words and their definitions, and questions. These questions contained extensive subject matter: life, death, joy, sorrow, peace, friendship, love, hate. My grandfather loved words. He was moved, inspired, and captivated by language. He expressed his wishes, his fears, and his passions through words. Near the end of his life, he began to forget his words. Looking back, it’s as though his fading words marked the onset of his fading life. Yet he kept the important words until the end: "Hello," "Goodbye," "I love you." I still keep an envelope with my grandfather’s handwriting. It reminds me that I inherited my grandfather’s love of words. And I am glad.

More and more each day...

I can't always understand why God has so richly blessed my life. He has guided my paths from the very beginning, and He has sometimes diverted my own inferior plans to complete His all-knowing ones. I never imagined that I would be married to a childhood friend and living in St. Petersburg, FL. I have fretted about failing to graduate "in time," but I have seen that His time is what counts.

I recently started a writing project for Roy Peter Clark of the Poynter Institute (the company that owns the St. Petersburg Times). This opportunity fell in my lap by the shear grace of God, and He is allowing me to build my writing, researching, and editing skills through it. My connection with Mr. Clark has since led to another internship opportunity, this time doing research for an author regarding her second book. I can almost hear God gently whispering to me, "I told you so." Why do I worry when He is constantly telling me and showing me that He has a plan? When Ryan was first stationed in St. Petersburg, I worried that the universities wouldn't be good enough and that I would never get established in writing or editing. Now I see that God brought me to a place filled with opportunity.

Not only has God poured out his blessings on my writing and editing aspirations, He has also given us a home to call our own. I love our new house more all the time. Again, I feel like God is trying to prove his overwhelming love and provision for us. He is on His throne, He is in control, and I have nothing to fear.

More and more each day, I am seeing and experiencing how His plans will always transcend my own. Thank heaven for that!