Daddy Day

Some people hate April 15. Dreaded tax day and all that. I happen to love April the 15 because in my world, it is a reason to celebrate. Everyone gets to celebrate Christmas (if they choose to) and Mothers Day is there for everyone. Easter, Valentines, the list goes on and on. But Daddy Day belongs just to me and my Daddy. It is the day that I officially and forever more became his girl.

I always knew my story. I always new there was another "dad" out there somewhere. I never knew him and he never sought to know me. But I always loved hearing mom tell of how MY daddy hitch-hiked from North Carolina to Georgia to be with her after I was born. I remember her telling me that just a few weeks into their relationship, he called me "his" baby. One daddy left but God gave me someone better in his place.

I struggled with this part of my life for years. I felt it shaping my heart and I wanted to fight it...to struggle against it and yet I didn't know how. Despite a loving father who kissed me on the forehead every morning before work and came home to play with us each night, the hole in my heart felt so big. I lacked for nothing. But still there was that whisper in my heart that I had been left and never sought after and try as I might to overcome that, it shaped my heart.

It wasn't till I was an adult, tidying up at my parents home that I found and really studied the adoption papers. I had seen them in earlier years but never really studied them. It was in that moment that all of the healing God had done over the course of my life, all of the steady love, steering guidance and faithful friendship that Dad had poured into me for so long truly absorbed into my heart and closed up any hole that had been there. I read those formal words and they jumped out at me. They etched on my heart and burned into my soul "...that on this day April 15, 1977..." so official. Like God's hand reached from His seat down to earth and stamped His seal on the document and on my spirit. Something real and physical change inside me. I felt that in that moment I couldn't possibly be any more his. In that moment, I fell in love with my Daddy and thanked the Lord that He never let me suffer unloved.

I resolved then that I would mark this day each year. Because this is the day that God changed the course of my life. This is the day I became the daughter of the greatest man I know. The apple of his eye and the joy of his heart.

Thank you, Daddy. Happy Daddy Day.

Sandy childhood

I sit on the sand and watch the kids play in the waves. I read in the shade as they splash in the pool. I pull weeds or read as they jump giggling on the trampoline. We have a shelf full of games that I am so reluctant to play.

When did I start observing their childhood instead of diving into it with them? How could I, a homeschool mom devoted to being with her family end up mising it? Of course there are times when we cook or sew and school is always "together" but, today as I sat contently on a towel at the beach, safe from sandy childhood, I wondered how the girls would look back at my interaction with them. Would they remember that I created great moments for them and sat as they enjoyed them or that I jumped at the opportunity to enjoy those moments with them? Will the remember me for instruction more than fun? Will they remember a smile on my face?

It is true that I am the Great Facilitator. I make hobbies and memories and events and education happy for other people. I think that is why I have felt content to sit back and observe. "My work here is done. I deserve a rest."

I am not beating myself up. I know that I give and expend and I think I do a good job with my children. I think that they feel loved and appreciated and valued. I know that I need time to pursue things that are valuable to ME. ( more to come on that)

But it has been nagging at me that I am missing opportunities to be with my girls, not just around them. So I am asking God to change my heart. To give me a passion that wants to jump out of my chair and put myself in the picture with them. To make sure that they see my desire to be with and enjoy them. To do more than just facilitate their childhood.

So today, I jumped up. I caught periwinkles in the sand as the waves washed back out. I dug a hole and let it fill so that my oldest could enjoy a temporary pool. I buried both girls neck-high in the sand and all the while we giggled and chatted and were really together. I didn't come away from that time anymore physically tired than if I had sat and read the whole time and my heart felt full and joyful because of my effort.

They were amazed by me and I was amazed by them. I think I take the time to wonder at their uniqueness, but maybe I don't let them in close enough to let them wonder at me. I was ashamed that they were so charged by my involvement. That nagging feeling had been right, I was missing it and they were missing me.

I resolved today to be a mom of action, of fun. Of joining in and getting sandy. Of savoring every moment. Of being close, not just close by.

Look in the mirror

I think my biggest fear in blogging is that I will take myself far too seriously. I know that I do it. I sit and agonize too much about what I "put out there" in my life and daily interactions. I've been told to lighten up, to enjoy. To STOP THINKING so much and relax . So to sit here and try to put things in words seemed even more intimidating.

So, in light of my far too intense thought life, I figured I would begin with freckles. Nothing too shocking there, right? This is a safe subject if there is such a thing. I promise I won't delve into how I felt about freckles during the first half of my life. Keep it light...

I love my freckles. I don't love sunscreen or having to hide in the shade and dodge the sun rays while everyone else is soaking them in. But I have to say, I love that I am unique. I love that God made me me.

I love that i look at my girls and see little brown kisses dotting their noses and I can say, "yep, they're mine." I love that Brett has a few on his nose as well. Just a few, mind you. You have to be close enough to kiss him before you can even see them. That's how I know he's mine as well; I can see them when I steal a kiss.

So while everyone is shopping for the summer essentials I will be hunting for my own list of things.

1.) the latest sunscreen available that is SPF 50 or higher(broad spectrum of course), fragrance-free, won't leave a white residue on the skin and is less than $10 a bottle... I go through a ton it in the course of a Florida summer!

2.) lightweight long sleeve shirts (but not white... sunscreen turns them yellow)

3.) a tasteful hat that will shade my face and still look cute. (not like I'm getting ready to go work in the fields) The key is to be protected and still look good doing it.

4.) the largest beach umbrella available

5.) a small hand held umbrella for when shade it not readily available.

So yes, being freckled carries a little larger responsibility in a state when 90% of the year is spent enjoying outdoor activities. But I don't mind. I really enjoy my freckles. See, nothing too intense about that, right?