Happy Father's Day

My Dad was always around when I was growing up. He met my Mom young, and they had been married for nearly 23 years when he died. There are very few memories of my childhood that don't involve him in one way or another. He collected strays, welcoming people in to our home, feeding them even though we rarely had enough to go around. My parents always said that our family had the gift of poverty. 

As a Reverend and Chaplain his work entailed ministering to our community, a job which he took to heart. I learned the importance of volunteering and public service from my Dad. I still remember the way he looked in his Navy whites, even though I was tiny the last time he wore them. Towards the end of his life he had shifted from leading churches to ministering to inmates. He led a service every week for men who were not able to attend Sunday services because of their past history. Dad never condoned the crimes these men had committed, but his faith in a forgiving God was unwavering.

I don't want to paint a perfect picture of him, which is easy to do when someone is gone... but today is a day to honor him, and so I will just say that I couldn't have asked for better. Missing him is something I will live with until I go home for good and get to walk the streets of gold together. 

God didn't stop there though. For the past 6 years I've had a pretty awesome Step-dad. Our relationship was rocky for a long time, and honestly we are still learning each other. The best thing about Bill is the sheer volume of his love for my Mom. He is always there for my sisters and I when we truly need him, and he pushes... pushes us to try harder, to be more independent.. to break the mold. 

Bill is a retired Marine and is very involved with the AA in our area. It's funny how my Mom found someone who is incredibly differently, but eerily similar to my Dad. Bill has never treated my sisters or myself as anything other than his girls. And when it comes to the grand-babies... he has that touch. As much as my nephew L looks my Dad, many of his mannerisms are Bill's.

Although my precious nieces and nephews will never know the man I grew up calling Dad, they have a Grandpa any child would be delighted to love.

Happy Father's Day!

Resolutions

Winter has hit the Pacific Northwest; the way my car swayed crossing the bridge coming home from work last night wouldn't let me forget that. I listened to the sound of rain pounding down on the roof of the motor-home running from one end to the other duct-taping washcloths to the ceiling in hopes of keeping the water off my floor. The weather took a turn on Christmas day, and hasn't let up since. There is a say about Oregon; Oregon has three seasons, rain, rain, rain, and road construction. Right now, it feels very true. It’s part of why I love this part of the country though.

Call me crazy, but I have a bond with the rain. It feels like communication from my Father, the heavenly one, and the one who is gone. The day my Dad passed away was beautiful and sunny in Missouri, until the moment I boarded the plan to go home to be with my Mom and sisters. As I passed through the "walk way" and onto the plane, I noticed the rain falling in the small gap between the two. I reached out to touch it; the feeling of wet on my fingers is something I have yet to forget.

For me, it was like his way of saying goodbye. On the day I decided to marry my husband (now ex) and move back to the Northwest from Kentucky, it rained. When I broke up with my husband, it rained. The day I moved in to my very first apartment, all by myself, it rained. The day my Mom and Step-dad offered me the motor-home as an alternative to living in a hotel, it rained. There are many other moments like these. Coincidence, maybe. In fact, as often as it rains here it would be almost impossible NOT to make some sort of life altering choice on a rainy day at least once in a while.

Still, the rain is special to me. I tried not to resent it last night as I found wet spots by the vents and ceiling lights. It's all fixable, and truly a matter of perspective. My original intention was to post about New Year's Resolutions, obviously I've strayed far.

Heavy on my mind lately has been something deeply personal, and the little drips from the ceiling were like an affirmation of how I decided to deal with these feelings. I am going to make this affirmation part of my New Year's Resolutions. I have only four this year, and like Sarah of Clover Lane, they are one word each. Hopefully I won't forget what they mean halfway through the year. I jotted them down in next year’s planner tonight, and hope to come back to this blog next year and celebrate achieving at least a few of them.

Loves

I introduced you to Bubbly the other day, and wanted to share the other great loves of my life with you as well.

Liam and Kiwi Girl are my youngest sisters children, and they both have wiggled into a very special place in my heart. I am blessed with a total of 2 nephews and 3 nieces, all under the age of 3! Liam and Kiwi Girl are the closest of them all though, and therefor I spend the most time with them. In fact, as I write this Liam is curled up on my fold out snoring away.

Here are a few shots of them from Thanksgiving 2011. Neither were very cooperative, and my camera isn't the greatest... but I love them all the same.