Blessed Sunday

Today is my dad's birthday. We had lunch with him and gave him cards and gifts and told him "happy birthday." But it just doesn't seem enough for someone who has loved me so very much my whole life. Someone who has spent his days from the time I was born when he was only 18, working to take care of me. He has loved me through childhood and the teen years and into adulthood. He has held me when I needed to be held and laughed with me more times than I can count. He has told stories and played music and let me play hooky. He has taken me fishing and on trips and given me priceless memories. He has sat with me in waiting rooms and sat in waiting rooms waiting for me. He has prayed with me and for me and over me. He has loved my children more than words can say from the moment he heard they were on the way and has shown them more love in their short lives than many people feel in a lifetime. He has encouraged me and guided me and helped me become who I am today. He is my dad. And that is such a wonderful blessing.

I love you, Dad.