Fathers and Daughters

Fathers and Daughters

One phrase I can vividly remember my father repeatedly saying to me while growing up was, “A penny for your thoughts.”  In my mind, I would reply, you should be rich by now.  However, I’d always come up with an answer even if I wasn’t consciously thinking of anything at that moment.  His steadfastness with that prompt taught me that whatever I was thinking at any given moment was important to somebody.  So, when I’m riding with my kids, I often engage them in conversation just to see what’s going on with them.  One such time, I was in the car with Lil Gal listening to a song and she asked me, “Mom, what are you thinking?”  It hit me so hard when she finally got my attention because I was lost in realizing a blessing that God had saw so fit to give my daughter and me – a father’s love.  We were listening to a song called “Your Joy” by Chrisete Michele.  She’s singing about the joy of the father/daughter relationship.  She knows without a doubt that she is her father’s joy and he is her joy from the time she was born up through adulthood.  It hit me so hard that by marrying my husband (who is a Godly and loving), I had gifted the Taylor with the same gift my mom gave me – a father who loves her unconditionally.  I’ve been so caught up in “being grown” that I’d taken my father’s love for granted.  I think she understood it when I explained it to her that this was my most treasured gift to her.  I told her not all girls have a father who thinks the world of them and gets up every day to make sure they are okay.  Some fathers fail to thank God for the blessings a daughter brings.  They don’t raise their girls and they don’t protect their girls.  Giving advice to their daughters never crosses their minds because they are wrapped up in self.  Well, “Lil Gal,” I said through tears in my eyes, “If I did not do anything else right, I’ve shared a father’s love with you.”  She does not get it now, just like I did not get it when I was her age.  But I get how precious a gift it is now, especially after a scare we had recently.

My father was picking Lil Gal up from cheer practice to help me out by getting the kids from one place to another.   He is not the best texter, so when I received a text saying, “I have at sch. Can talk. Stoke?” I thought he was saying, “I have Taylor at school.  Can you talk? Shorty? (that’s my nickname).   Unusual at this time of the day, I was near my phone.   So, I immediately called him to tease him about the cryptic message.  As soon as I heard his voice, I translated the message correctly, “I am at the school.  I CAN’T TALK. I’m having a stroke?”  The next few moments were some of the hardest moments of my life.  The paramedics were called, the school was called, and Lil Gal was protected from running out joyously to Big Papa’s car after practice only to find him struggling for his life.  While driving to the hospital, in my deepest moments of fear, I could hear Crisete Michele’s song, “You’ll always be my father, and I’ll always be your joy.”

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to recount either of these stories without crying.  Father’s Day means so much more to me this year.  I have two wonderful men in my life who are loving the women in their lives unconditionally and each night that we fall asleep, we know that we are their joy.

Conversations with a Butterfly

Conversations with a Butterfly

There are certain times of the year where we can depend on animal sightings annually recurring.  For the fall, I count how many squirrels survive a mad dash across the street for that perfect nut.   The others who were a  little less fortunate are silently honored for their courage that failed them in that last moment of risk.  During the winter, I look the skies for the millions of birds preparing for their sojourn south.  My daughter and I pretend they are having traveling rallies when they congregate on the electrical lines in our neighborhood.  We make up conversations for the chatter we hear overhead as we drive beneath them or walk into the grocery store.  The summer is a time for those dag blasted mosquitoes to spread their little tiny wings and irritate me every time I walk out the door.  My blood type has been a favorite of theirs since I was a little girl.  It’s like I have happy hour written on my forehead and they flood the door to find the perfect table to talk with their friends about the hard day at work.  

The spring brings millions of butterflies.   They are beautiful and they are everywhere.  Not a spring has passed in the five years or so that I have not cleared a path for a fat and hairy caterpillar in our garage.   I want to make sure each one finds a place to rest and begin that beautiful process of metamorphosis because of the gift that God gives us with each emergence – a butterfly.  I began noticing the delicacy and beauty of butterflies when I had my children.  We walked around in the field a lot when we moved into our house.  The grass had not grown and we had a lot full of weeds.  My son and daughter thought they were flowers so we often took a look around.  Although it took me a while, I picked up on how often the butterflies landed on them.   With my encouragement, they remained still and watched the butterflies on each other.  I explained to them that they were special to have butterflies land on them because they don’t land on just anybody.  Quickly, it just became a way of life.  If we went walking, the butterflies landed on them.    We even stopped talking about it as if it was a phenomenon.  We just knew that at least one of them would have an encounter with a butterfly as if they were just joining us for a walk.  Everyone would acknowledge the butterfly’s arrival and keep talking as if it rightly belonged on the sleeve, on the back, or even on the forehead of the person it chose to rest. 

I was recently reminded of how relaxing and comforting those walks and conversations with my children were when talking with a woman.  She too had encountered a butterfly and oh what comfort it brought her, for days.   It was then that I realized how much like butterflies in the spring are like God.  They are everywhere taking care of busy.  We do not really pay attention to them unless something happens like they land on us or we see one underfoot as we walk out of the house.  But oh if we are still, we can truly appreciate them.  They are busy working every time they land – their little body parts are furiously moving.  It’s that way with God.   He is everywhere.  We pay attention to him when something monumental happens; the loss of a loved one, getting a new job, a body ache that won’t go away, or a kid that just won’t act right.  But if we are caught up in the routine of life, we take Him for granted.   Whenever we reach the “springs” in our life whether it is an April Storm or May Flowers, we remember to have a Conversation with a Butterfly, excuse me a Conversation with God.  He is always ready to travel with us but do we always turn to Him. 

Many people shoo away butterflies just like they shoo away God.  He’s speaking and they ignore Him.  He awakens them at 4:00 a.m. to spend time with Him, and they shoo him away.  He even warns us that something we are about to do is certainly not the way to go, and we keep going anyway.   As I encouraged my children to do when butterflies first began landing on them, we need to be still.   When we are flailing about and running, a butterfly gets killed or quickly flies away, failing in their attempt to land.  When God is talking to us, if we are moving around too much and concerned about other things, we kill our fellowship with Him.  He wants to spend time with us and it is so peaceful.  If you are not still, you won’t feel HIM.   Just like my kids and I began to do after so many butterfly visits, you begin to take God for granted.   But He is not to be taken for granted.  Have the spirit of a child when you spend time with Him.  Look at and listen to Him in awe.  Just like the butterfly has a lot of work to do, God has a lot of work to do in YOU.  Take some time to have a conversation with a butterfly.  Excuse me, a Conversation with God.