Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Happy Birthday Dad

Today is my Father's birthday. I won't reveal his exact age, but let you know it is less than 60.

My father is a unique individual (as we all are I guess).

I get my techno-junkiness from him. And my analytical mind. And his curly hair. And small mouth with small teeth.

I have 3 very fond memories of my dad as I think back to my childhood - of course as I reflect on these 3 specific memories many more come to mind.  I'll try to stick to just the three.

The first memory is when I was 6.  On Sunday of one week I had a conversation with my mom about what it means to be Christian.  I distinctly remember sitting on the kitchen counter while she was cooking having this conversation.  I told her that Jesus was in my heart already; I asked him when I was in her womb.  She informed me that it doesn't work that way and I need to ask Him now.  I contemplated this for the week.  Friday night I was lying in bed and prayed "THE" prayer.  I asked Jesus to live in my heart.  I had this image of Jesus driving down in a red truck and shrinking up very small to sit on a couch in my heart.  At any rate, the next morning I was afraid to tell mom, because then she'd know that I was wrong during our earlier conversation.  So I told my dad.  I remember playing basketball in the front yard and stopping for a minute to tell him my news.  He told me that I had to tell my mom and she would be very pleased for me.  My dad was the one I felt most comfortable telling this very important news to.

The next memory is when I was in high school.  I had gotten into a car accident.  My mom was out of town.  I called my dad from a friend's mom's cell phone.  I had gotten a ride home and there was my dad.  He had dropped everything at work to come home and spend the evening with me.  He knew I needed someone there.  Unfortunately I didn't stay home for the evening; I wish I had realized how insensitive I was being back then.

When I was 11 I was hanging out with friends.  We were all riding each other's bikes.  I got on a bike and rode down a driveway.  I thought I heard someone call my name, so I turned my head and to look.  I cut the corner too close and ran into the mailbox.  I felt a scratch on my hand.  I wondered if I needed a band-aid.  When I looked at my hand I saw the inside of it.  My friend's mom took me inside and helped me clean it up.  She was on the verge of taking me to the hospital when my mom got home and my sister told her what happened.  My mom took me to the hospital.  Later in the evening (I'm not sure how much longer), my father showed up at the hospital and handed me my bike helmet.  No, I was not wearing it at the time of the accident.  Of course, I had to inform him that my helmet would not have helped me in this case.

I had my first roller coaster ride with my dad.  His belly laugh still rings in my ears as I was crying and shrieking the whole time.

My father went with me when I got my driver's license.  

My dad advised me on my first car purchase.

He helped me move countless times in college.

My dad is the one who took care of me when I had my tonsils out in high school.  I woke up from a nap and saw a TV with satellite hookup in my room.

Anyway ... Happy Birthday Dad.  I wish I could be in Arizona to celebrate with you.

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