Dear Dad.

There are particular sentiments attached to my father which often go unexpressed--sentiments which undergird the importance of a father in the life of his daughter. No guy that I know occupies such a place in my heart, with the exception of the Guy to whom all of Life derives its origin.     

I am my father's daughter.  I'm proud that my life bears his likeness.  My dad and I operate on the same plane.  We communicate much the same, which is by non-communicating.  My sister and my mom can talk the day away, and my dad and I will silently ingest our surroundings, without thought to express our minds.  My dad has a silent, gentle, public demeanor.  I like to think I have the same.  My dad is wise.  He is the one to whom I have demanded answers to the 'whys' of life.  I like that people now come to me with their questions, though I don't profess to have all the answers.  My dad is a jack of all trades, and I tell him I am, too--though we both know that we don't do any one thing particularly well--we just like to think we dabble in everything.  Most of all, I just like that I'm like him.

It matters what my dad thinks.  I would have never survived adolescence without his repeated affirmation of his love for me.  Now that I am grown my dad is the only guy to whom I will let show my weaknesses and allow for help.  I don't mind being helpless in his presence.  I don't feel like a wimp asking for his help, either.  He's my dad, and I know he thinks the world of me regardless.

Dad, I can't wait until you're here next month, when we'll sow and reap in this Great Harvest together.  My daddy's coming soon!