Happy Father’s Day, Daddy!

This post was originally published on June 16, 2013. I had no idea when I wrote this that day would be the last Father’s Day we would celebrate with him here on earth. Now, he celebrates with his Heavenly Father every day.

Unless you’ve been on safari for the last several weeks, you know that today is Father’s Day. If you haven’t bought your present yet, there’s still plenty of time. Stores stay open on Father’s Day for procrastinators – and for those who just love a good bargain on men’s items.

I was thinking about my dad earlier, of all that he’s lived through in his soon-to-be 88 years. I don’t remember much about my infant and early childhood years. But I do know that my dad contracted TB and had to be hospitalized at a VA Hospital that was quite some distance from our home. At that time, there was no guarantee for a cure; I understand those were some very tense months until he was pronounced well and could come home.

My family was very active in church as my sister and I grew up. For the first seventeen years of my life, we lived less than a block from the church so we were there every time the doors were unlocked. My sister and I were shown by example that church attendance is an important part of daily life.

I remember the time that my dad came home and cried. He had served on the building committee for the new church and it was finally finished. The responsibility was great, the pressure was finally off. My sister and I learned to accept responsibility and carry it through to the end because of my dad’s example.

I remember another time when he came to me, tears in his  eyes and said he needed to talk to me. He told me that his beloved dad, J. B. Evans,–my beloved Papa Evans, had gone to be with Jesus after a valiant fight against cancer. I learned it was okay to cry–a lot–when you need to.

There are so many pictures in my mind this morning…daddy holding his first and only granddaughter, my daughter, Kim. Daddy waiting to walk me down the aisle and eighteen years later waiting to hold me in his arms when that marriage was no more. I see him on his knees in our den praying, and as his knees wore out, I see him sitting in his recliner, praying. He and my mom still pray every night and every night they name off my sister, me and our husbands, our children and grandchildren. That means daddy names off the four adults, five grandchildren, and nine great-grandchildren. And he never misses one.

If your daddy is still living, consider yourself blessed and be sure and visit him today or call if you don’t live close. If he’s no longer here, honor him by remembering the good times and the lessons he taught you.

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