This one is for my mom....and my dad. My mom misses my blogging. I think its her way of feeling connected with the grandkids and I. My blogs are something she looked forward to and counted on for either a good laugh (at my expense...like the story of hiding in the coat closet eating a Snickers Ice Cream Bar) and/or a good cry. Aunti Lynn has also been asking for some more blogs. So Lynn, here you go....sorry to keep you waiting so long and thank you for being so understanding and patient.
What I really want to blog/share with you is a short story about my father. My daddy is the smartest, most caring, passionate, active, interesting, employed, and reliable man that I know. He is NOT perfect, but pretty darn close to it. He lacks the patience that Nana has when dealing with all six kids at one time, but not many people can do her job anyway! Anyhow, I don't know what I would ever do without my father. I'm tearing up as I write this because it brings to mind a very vivid memory I have of a conversation we shared when I was a young girl. I do not recall my exact age, but if I had to guess, I'd say about 7 or 8. I'm quite positive he will NOT remember this day or moment that I'm about to share with you. We all know how the most insignificant, minute comments or simple chats can hold dear to some and yet others may have no recolletion of it. Not to mention, I was a child and be that as it may...CHILDREN REMEMBER EVERYTHING!!!! I'm also certain he will not recall it because he was in the middle of doing something really important at the time. It had to do with encouraging a friend or acquaintence during a dark time. That's my dad...always helping someone in a time of great need, saving lives; that's just what my daddy does.
On a quiet culdesac sat a humble sized home. Located in the back of that home was the "office" adjacent to our family room or "den" as some call it. When people ask where I grew up, this is the home that comes to my mind. Immediately, when I close my eyes, I've traveled into the past and I'm standing in this home, in his office all over again. I can picture it in great detail down to the wood paneled walls. This room later became Grandma Lo-Lo's bedroom, a safe place I'd go to hide and cry when I was in trouble with mom. Grandma had all the good candy hidden in secret places within the room and she shared them with me whenever I visited her during my 'time-outs.' I digress, in my father's office sat a big 'ol chunky desk with a big 'ol chunky ancient computer atop of it. I, being a normal kid, was in the den watching cartoons. I can still hear my father's fingers hitting the keyboard as he typed away. Who knows where my brothers were at the time but they weren't entertaining me and I was bored. I walked into the office to see what dad was doing. Instead of ignoring me, as I often do when the kids want to talk while I'm blogging, he stopped and turned to me. Did you read that correctly? I'll write it again, just in case you didn't get it-- HE STOPPED IN THE MIDDLE OF WHAT HE WAS DOING!!! He acknowledged my presence and asked me how my day was. Even his body language mirrored his words. He was genuinely interested in me. Perhaps, at that exact moment, it was a much needed break from his letter. I'll never know and it doesn't really matter because it meant a great deal to me. I asked him what he was doing and he replied with something similar to "I'm writing a letter to a friend."
He went back to writing his letter as I took a seat on the north wall of the room. I'm sure all 50lbs of me got lost in that big, beige chair. I remember watching him type for a few minutes. Above that desk hung a white USA Olympics flag. As I sat there staring at the flag and the colors of the rings, he turned again and looked at me; then, he asked me for my help with his letter. He was including me in something kinda important. He said his 'friend' was going through a rough time and was looking for advice. He pulled me close to him and asked me if I thought one person could change the world or if I thought the task would prove to be too much for one person alone to conquer. Obviously, with the life experience and mindset of an 8 yr old... I replied with a big, confident YES....one person could indeed change the world. My daddy listened to me and then smiled in response. He then explained to me that even if a person couldn't make a significant change, quite possibly, he or she could at least make a small dent in it. I never forgot those words.
Here's where you think my story ends. You're wrong.
My daddy went back to his letter. He read aloud the paragraph he was working on. In it, he had written something to the point of it being impossible and too much of an expectation on a single individual. Then, he stopped midsentence and then deleted what he had already typed. I distinctly remember him starting his next sentence with, ...."I have a beautiful, confident, 8 year old daughter who is absolutely positive that one person can undoubtedly make a change....".
Not only did my daddy acknowledge my presence while in the midst of his busy schedule that morning, not only did he initiate a conversation with his little girl that morning, but he included my innocent, naive thoughts into his friend's much needed boost of confidence and comfort. I cannot begin to describe how important my father made me feel on that insignificant, yet momentous, early morning.
I only hope I can evoke similar feelings of importance in my children. I am determined to let them know how precious and loved they are. Thank you daddy for being so important to me and for making me feel the same. You have not a clue how much you affected me on that day. You are the best daddy any daughter could ask for and I love you more than this big, wide, sometimes ugly, world.
My daddy makes dents in peoples' lives everyday. I stand by what I had proclaimed that morning because my father is an example of one person changing the world. He changed mine.
