Tuesday, July 1, 2014

One Thousand Gifts: The Stories Of A Father

Father's Day was approaching.  I came across an article that was titled "What Your Dad Really Wants This Father's Day" or something along those lines. 

I clicked on the link, expecting to read a list of cool/different ideas on what to make or buy. 

But the list contained only one thing.  And the one thing was nothing money could buy. 

The writer simply encouraged kids to write from the heart this year. To write in a card and tell your Dad what it is you love most about him.

As I wrote in my Daddy's card this year, I took the writer's advice. 

I wrote from the heart. 

I told my Daddy that I was sorry for not taking more time to sit and talk...sit and listen...just the two of us.  My Daddy has lived an incredible life.  I'm always in awe when he shares about his childhood. It makes me wish for simpler days for my own children.  I told him that I love his stories.  I told him that I want to take the time to sit and hear all of the stories that he has yet to tell.

With two little ones, most of the minutes of my days are all about caring for them.

But I've been missing something. 

And my girls have been missing something. 

My girls need to hear those stories from their Papa. They would love his stories too. They will treasure those stories. They will treasure that time. 

I came across a new to me blog. 

Even though I had heard the name Ann Voskamp a million times, I had never read anything by her until a few months back.

Her book one thousand gifts is one of those books that I read each page, nodding my head, yes...yes.

This book/study is challenging me to recognize the most simple of things for what they truly are. 



A Godly father.
A loving/present father.
A father full of stories to share.



I took some time with my Daddy today. 

Over fresh BLT sandwiches and a cold root beer, I sat and listened to his stories. 

Some of his stories pull at my heart strings.  Stories of his first summer to get to play baseball instead of traveling from Arkansas to Michigan to work in the orchards. Something he had done since he was 8 years old.  No money to buy a baseball mitt, so he worked for his Dad to pay for that $3 glove.

Some of his stories make me laugh until I cry.  Stories of him wrecking his brother's new car (before his brother was able to drive it) as a young 15 year old boy. 

This life we have...it's just a bunch of breaths. 

And one day...there will be no more breaths.  

And all we'll have is that time that we spent together.

Those memories that we made.

All we'll have are pictures of their smile that will take us back to that day. 

That day of fresh BLT's and cold root beer. 

That day of stories that made us laugh and cry. 

That day that we just sat and listened, taking in every word.

What a gift. 

"Maybe we, as a younger generation, are so consumed with ourselves, we have forgotten the legacy from which we came." -Allison Hendrix

Love to all,


Momx6 said...

You should have warned to get tissues! You will also have this wonderful blog of pictures and story. Good job, Pill.

p.s. I think one needs to be a robot to read the scambled texts!

Faith said...

Precious post!! And, I love your mom's comment :)