Duderonomy

Today is Father's Day. My siblings and I used to call our dad Duderonomy. We decided long ago that calling him, "Dude," was far better and more appropriate than "Dad." So we slowly grew the name, and eventually started calling him Duderonomy. Like, "Deuteronomy". But better.

Goodness... I don't even know where to start about my dad. He's my music cheerleader. He did the music thing himself around when he got married. He's the guy who taught me how to harmonize at the brutal age of probably 9 or something. He taught Zach Caleigh and I how to sing three parts for church special music. Making him proud was the best thing on earth. He'd be at the back of the church, always bringing us the extra nod to let us know we were doing ok... and he was always first to remind us if it wasn't for God, we shouldn't be doing it, and it was not worth it.

My dad is the absolute best example of a Christian man I've ever known. He's a living testimony of what it looks like to live in the power of the Holy Spirit every minute. He's a miracle... he almost died a year ago at work. That was the most insane wake up call to me... realizing my dad basically should not have lived through his work accident. What if I had no one to walk me down the aisle, no one for my own kids to call grandpa from my side of the family... even though we already decided we'd use the name "Gramps" rather than "grandpa" for my dad... half in jest ;)

My dad loves my mom. We all know it. No one could ever doubt it. They've been married for 24 years. Eight kids. And he is everything a dad should be. He surpasses what is "required" of a dad to be.

One approving nod from my dad after I perform somewhere is like gold. Yes! It must have been alright then. Or better yet, when he come over and whispers in my ear, "Phenomenal." Hah, he's my music guru... if I don't please him when he was basically my vocal coach till college, what's the point!?

My dad's love is so much like God's love. They both can make me cry. They both can stop me in my tracks. They both can fire me up enough to do things I feel I can't. They both are sweet calm in times of heartache. I'll never forget coming home from school for a few days... I needed to come home and recharge a bit. Some rough stuff had been going on, and we had off a few days, so I came home. Without getting into detail, my heart was just aching. I wasn't on the verge of tears when my dad picked me up from the airport. I felt fine. He knew what had happened over the previous weeks to that visit. And I knew he knew. But I didn't talk about it. Until I got home. I saw my mom in the kitchen, and she hugged me. My sisters came over and hugged me. And my dad came over. He gently touched my hair, and put his arms around me, and said, "This is what I wanted to do a few weeks ago." And he held me for a long time. I felt myself tense up... I didn't want to cry. But it was hopeless.... his love weakens me. I relaxed, and let myself rest. I was safe. In my dad's arms. Tears welled up a bit. But it wasn't just the reality of the previous weeks that brought them. It was my dad.

I'll never forget reading the first entry in a journal my dad wrote... we used to write to each other in a journal. When we'd write back, we'd put it under each other's pillows. My mom and I did it too. But when my dad wrote to me the first time, I must have been around 12 or 13 or so. I remember sitting on my bed, and reading it slowly, and stopping half way. I couldn't finish immediately for the water in my eyes. He had written how beautiful I was. He had called me "Princess," which was his nick name for me when I was little. "You know you're a Princess, right?" He had written. I couldn't believe how precious his words were to me. I felt silly, too. A lot of my friends were getting into the "boy crazy" thing, and hey... boys were getting to be increasingly interesting to me as well. As I sat on my bed, I took out my journal, and copied what he wrote to me, and then said, "My dad's love fills the places in my heart that I feel when I think of boys." I was so young, and it's kind of funny looking back that I had written those words. But even then, my dad's love for me kept me from looking for it somewhere else that might have hurt me.

I respect my Dad. It's the worst pain to think I've disappointed him in some area. I try to make him proud. I want to honor him all the time. He's raised my family to be a bundle of 10 crazy people who all love music, and each other, and above all the Lord. I love him so much.

His love reminds me of God's love. He himself reminds me of my Heavenly Father. He's a man after God's heart. A man I know God smiles on and rejoices over. A man I am so glad and blessed to call my father.