A Girl and Her Dad

 When I was a little girl, my Dad would drive me to my ballet lessons while my mom stayed home with my baby brother.  He would wait outside in his pick-up truck or would pick me up inside.  We’d drive home.  For thirteen years, my Dad sat outside my ballet schools with a newspaper after a long day at work, waiting on me and allowing me to have an opportunity to do something that I loved.  When I was a little girl, my dad would hold my hand the whole way home.  And I remember this.  When I was in elementary school, he would listen to the endless stories of my day.  I’ve never been short on words and my dad has always been a much quieter personality.  When I was a teenager, I would sing the whole way home to my dad’s collection of Reba McEntire cassette tapes.  He never complained.  

“Love is patient.  Love is kind.”               ~1 Corinthians 13:4

I’m sure my Dad had other things to do.  I’m certain that clocking hours outside of the dance schools wasn’t on his initial bucket-list.  My dad is a deer hunting, trout-fishing, baseball-loving, hard-working, outdoorsy kind of guy.   

 Yet, my favorite hunter has never objected to sitting through a ballet concert, piano recital, cheerleading routine, or musical theater performance in my life.  He has never complained.  He has never missed a minute.  

I could write a billion words about the way my Dad has supported me, yet I have learned something far more valuable through his presence in my life and at his unconditional support through every milestone.  

If I were to trace my life back to the one person that instilled the most confidence in my heart, it would {hands down} be my dad.  No contest. Both of my parents and numerous other family members and mentors have poured into my life in significant and irreplaceable ways, but my Dad taught me to see myself the way God sees me.  I’m not sure he knew of the impact in his words at the time.  I know.

My Dad taught me to see myself the way God sees me.”

Sometimes people say I’m an encourager, and I hope that it’s true.  I want my words to speak life, but I wouldn’t be able to spread words of hope into the hearts of others if not for the way my dad had repeatedly spoken truth into my own impressionable heart at a young age.  Though my interests, talents, and strengths were very different from his, my Dad valued me as the unique individual that God created me to be.  I never longed for his approval.  It was a given.  I was accepted as his child, not as perfect or without mistakes, yet unconditionally valued and endlessly loved.  

If I doubted this for a minute, I learned the error of my ways once and for all when I was in junior high.  For whatever reason, I was compelled to sign up for middle school track and field one spring day.  We cannot explain this madness. I enjoy running for fun and exercise from time to time but I’m not going to win any races by any stretch of the imagination.  I am not an athlete.  I’m more of…and artistic gal.  

Nonetheless, I marched myself into the school office and signed the paper that read “track.”  Wow.  My track career wasn’t a complete disaster.  I ran distance.  My race was the 800.  My dad had been a distance runner {a real, true Cross Country athlete} when he was in high school.  I was pretty sure that he would be super proud of my new athletic endeavor.  In retrospect, I’m sure he was as skeptical of this adventure as I was.  Even I knew this was a bit far-fetched.  Regardless, he always met me on the field before the 800 race.  The speech was always the same.

“Now Sis, you don’t have to be the fastest one out there.  You might not win and that’s alright.  Some of these other girls might be faster than you, but I bet they can’t sing and dance as pretty as you can either.”  

This was huge in my life.  Friends, I don’t know if you remember being a girl in middle school but it’s pretty much the worst phase of life.  At thirteen and fourteen-years-old, teen girls are insecure, awkward, and somewhat self-loathing to be frank.  To top that off, I was a tall girl with natural curl in my hair…and the hair straightener hadn’t been invented yet.  Talk about a struggle of self esteem.  Try being the tall, lanky, pale girl with frizzy, unmanageable hair.  This was not a confident season of my life to say the very least.  YIKES!!!  Yet my dad showed up week after week to tell me that I didn’t have to be perfect, to remind me of my strengths when I was most unsure of myself, and to meet me at the finish line with a water bottle.  Through this, I began to see myself as the person God has created me to be.  Because of this, I survived the tragic awkwardness and the painful sting of middle school.

I’ve carried my dad’s affirmation with me for nearly two decades.  When I failed, I remembered that I wouldn’t fail at everything.  When a teenage boy in the bleachers would make fun of my pale skin in my cheerleading uniform, I survived the humiliation because I rode home with a dad who would compliment me for a job well done…not that he would know the difference in bad cheer or good cheer…but he showed up and he valued me.  When I went away to college and worked two (and sometimes three jobs), I would often return to my dorm room at the end of a long school, workstudy, nannying day to talk to my dad on the phone.  The conversation was usually the same as the phone call before.

“How is your car running?  How is your refrigerator holding up?  Is your computer working?  Do you have enough money?  Is there gas in your car?  Don’t forget to have the oil changed.”  This is how a dad says he cares.  My answers were always the same.  All was well.  I was fine.  I had enough.  Life was happy.  And dads are the people in our lives who take responsibility for our well-being even after we move four hours from home.  

Without the wisdom of my dad, if my life had been without his encouragement?  No, I’m still not perfect.  But that encouragement?  His words taught me to focus on my strengths despite my short-comings.  He trained me to look at myself and to value the gifts that God has given me in the midst of failures and devastating disappointments.  

Every girl needs someone to believe in her; not to believe that she is without flaws but to teach her that she is of worth because she is the unique creation of a perfect Creator.

I learned this in the white pick-up truck that drove me home from ballet lessons.  I learned this in the red pick-up truck that drove me home from every away game…when I was sometimes the only cheerleader with a fan in the crowds.  I learned this on the field at track meets just before a race.  I learned this, saw this, heard this, and came to believe the truth: that I am valued by my Heavenly Father because I am valued by my earthly father.  

I learned it all from my favorite deer hunter: a deer hunter who never missed a ballet recital.  

Thank you, Dad.

From my heart to yours,         ~Courtney

“The righteous walks in his integrity, blessed are his children after him.”  ~Proverbs 20:7