Sunday, June 21, 2015

a letter to my kids on father's day

Dear Lucy and Oliver,

You're lucky.  Really lucky.


There's this guy.  You knew him as
Dada
then, Daddy
and now, on occasion, Dad.

You never tire of his games of
Smasher and
Prize Claw and
Shark Tank and
whatever other tickling, wrestling, squealing, laughing fun he creates for you.
Your favorite times with him don't require any fancy toys or exciting locations.  Just his presence with you is enough.

And so you ask him over and over, day after day, with a hopeful look in your eyes - can we play, daddy?

Last year I asked him for something too.  It wasn't anything fancy or exciting.  And I didn't have to ask him twice because he wanted the same thing I wanted, the same thing you always want -
his presence with us.

When I said - It feels like something needs to change.  It feels like we are not together enough as a family.
He didn't say - Okay, I will see what I can do to satisfy you.  
He said - I agree.  And I won't be satisfied until we make that happen.

And then he did.

Your daddy has always been the yin to my yang, the peanut butter to my jelly, the calm to the wild, unpredictable storm that is me.

You have no idea how lucky you are.

He chooses slow over fast
home over travel
grace over grudges
patience over hurry
listening over bossing around
eternal things over temporary ones...

He chooses us over anything else in this world.

Oh my sweet ones, you are so very lucky.

You may not be able to attach these words to it now, but I know you feel it too.  There is a difference in a daddy who chooses you, who chooses us, over whatever  the world dangles enticingly in front of him.
More than money
or fame
or success
or approval
or comfort
or fancy toys
or exciting locations...
he chooses you and me.

Everybody wants to be chosen - including me.  Because of him, not a day goes by that I don't feel like a handpicked, cherished treasure.  I watch him cherish you too.  As your mama, I know that is a more precious gift than anything we could ever buy or offer you.

Your daddy has prioritized you.  He has prioritized us.

Because of that I sit on a quiet couch this morning, in this small town where he works a job that isn't particularly glamorous with a paycheck that isn't particularly impressive.  Outside I can see the pile of lumber he picked up yesterday to build you a playhouse in the backyard.  In a few minutes you will come creeping in to help make him breakfast and then we will all go crawl in the bed together to wish him a happy fathers day...
and every one of us will have exactly what we asked for.

Lucky us.