Half a Century!

            Today, my daddy turns 50. And yes, even at the age of twenty-two, I still refer to him as my daddy. Why? There are many, many reasons for this. I once heard a quote that summed it up perfectly into one sentence: “Any man can be a father, but it takes a special man to be a Daddy.” My daddy is a special man, indeed, and I’m not the only one who knows it- he is respected, loved, and looked up to by so many people. Without a doubt, I am blessed to be his little girl. 

            My daddy always takes time for his family- and to him, family is not limited to those who are blood relatives. As a child, my favorite days were Saturdays with him. We always started the mornings with a stop at Wawa for gum and coffee, before heading off to Home Depot or the feed store, working on countless projects, or spending time at the barn. Whenever we worked on projects, he never told me to leave him alone. Instead, I was allowed to help, even if it was just handing him nails because I was too little to do much else. As I got older, he taught me the proper way to do all of these things, from painting to changing the oil to gardening and yard work. He loved having people over, and gladly welcomed the constant stream of friends and cousins at our house. When I reached the school years, he always attended as many functions as possible, from silly little plays and field trips to board meetings and graduations. He never once complained about picking me up from soccer or drama practice, rushing to get me to a concert or rehearsal on time, or even taking my friends home when their parents couldn’t be there. 

            My daddy supports us in our interests, and encourages us to pursue what we love. Once I began riding horses, he spent every Saturday morning at the barn with me, and later a few weeknights and even some Sundays as well, whether it was cold and windy or suffocatingly hot or if he had a long to-do list waiting for him. Over the years, he has accompanied me on countless trips to look at horses for my sister and I, even spending whole days going from barn to barn in search of that “perfect” horse. He has spent hours at different barns, watching me show, train, and get thrown off who knows how many times. On show weekends, he never objected to letting a few friends spend the night after we got home late from the barn, waking up before sunrise with us to stop at Wawa on the way back to the barn, loading the horses nobody else could manage to get on a trailer, keeping track of all our equipment, wiping boots, attaching numbers to our backs, staying with the horses so we could watch the other competitors, and even leading misbehaving horses around the show ring on occasion. Even now, he still goes to the barn with my sister and I and watches us ride or helps us groom out the spring sheddings (which is a monumental task, by the way). 

            My daddy knows the importance of making memories and family time. Every year, he takes us on vacation at least once. As I grew up, my summers were filled with camping, fishing, trips to the mountains, and hanging out at the lake. In the warmer months, he drags the boat down to the bay on Sunday afternoons so we can tube, attempt to ski, swim, fish, and come home exhausted and sunburnt, but happy and with new memories made.
            My daddy takes care of us as well as cares for us. He painstakingly taught me to drive, helped me find the right car, and made sure I could drive well in the snow before letting me off on my own. When I was a new driver and there was a snowstorm while I was at work, he came at the end of my shift, cleared off my car for me, and followed me home in case there was a problem. He taught me to shoot as a child, then later bought me a gun and made sure I knew exactly how to use it. During all my years of wearing a back brace, he drove me to countless appointments and various doctors and hospitals, learned how to adjust it, accommodated me in all of the things I suddenly couldn’t do with it on, and encouraged me to keep at it even when it hurt. When I was very young and my mom worked weekends, my daddy learned to do my little-girl hair for church and somehow managed to get three small children dressed, clean, and out the door on time. When I was twelve and broke my nose, had to have surgery, and couldn’t wear my glasses for two months but couldn’t see anything without them, he constructed a baseball hat with a hook to hold the middle of my glasses close enough that I could see through them, without them touching my nose. Every time one of us is sick, he’ll run out in the middle of the night to get tissues, Vicks, a movie, Tylenol, jell-o, or whatever else we may need or want, then sit up with us all night if need be. 

            My daddy is a godly man. He has always taken us to church every Sunday, as well as Wednesdays when we were younger. He is still putting the fourth child through Christian school. He led us in family devotions and prayer for years, making sure that we all got in the habit of spending time with God on a daily basis. 

            As my daddy turns 50 today, I want him to know how much he is loved, respected, and appreciated. May the Lord bless him with many, many more good years yet to come!
           

...Rain is a good thing!

           “Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet.” –Bob Marley

            I am definitely one of those people who feels the rain. There’s something captivating about raindrops, in the way they descend from the heavens and touch the earth with their wet presence. A single raindrop is a beautiful thing- pure, graceful, and so simple, but armies of them together can do powerful things to the world and those who live in it. It is amazing how much something so common, so seemingly unremarkable, can affect our lives, our moods, our health, the world around us, and even our emotions. So many people claim to hate the rain- this seems to almost be a sin. I pity those people who are unable to embrace the beauty of a rainfall, the power of a thunderstorm, and the simple pleasures of the puddles left behind as reminiscent of the drops which have run their course. Thankfully, I am not one of those people.
            I love the rain. I love the soothing sounds of it that surround me with its presence: a quiet whisper to a raging bellow from the clouds above. I love the way it falls on my body, soaking my hair, trickling down my face, dripping off my nose and chin. I love the carefree laughter that comes with splashing in puddles. I love the simplicity of curling up with a good book and a cup of coffee on rainy days. I love the wonder of laying outside in a field on a summer night with a furious thunderstorm threatening above, lashing out with angry streaks of lightning and roaring in a thunderous voice. In fact, moments like those often birth unforgettable memories and profound moments. Some of my greatest thoughts and inspirations have been awakened and fueled by the splendor of rain.
            Rainy moments have an added element of beauty that is not found with the sun, although that has a radiance all its own. I have stood out in the rain, just enjoying it…and feeling it. I have splashed in the puddles with friends, as the joy bubbled out of us into contagious smiles and laughter. I have cried in the rain, allowing the droplets from the sky to mix with those trickling out of my eyes until my vision was blurred and I could no longer tell raindrops from tears. I have run in the rain, and it seemed to almost soak into me as a tangible energy coursing through my strides. I have danced in the rain, both alone and with someone else- there is something enchanting and boundlessly joyful found in dancing on the soaked earth with the melody of the raindrops as your music. I have kissed in the rain, which is something possibly too beautiful for words and must be experienced, not explained.
            Tonight, as I stood outside in the rain as I have done countless times before, I found myself marveling at the absolute majesty of our God, Who created such a thing. The Lord of all creation, the God of wonders- my heart was bursting with praise for our Father in heaven as I beheld this glorious display of the incredible works of His hand.
            Some people just get wet…never be one of those. Instead, feel the rain- really feel it, and take in those wonderful moments that God has given you in a raindrop package.

Dewdrops on Daisies

I love daisies. And water. So when I saw this daisy alongside a mountain trail on a bright, sunny morning, I just had to capture it.

There’s a simple beauty to a daisy with dewdrops resting peacefully upon its petals in the early morning sunshine. It shines with simplicity and purity, two things that are often difficult to come by in the everyday busyness of life in today’s society. There is a certain quiet beauty about it, not screaming for attention or pretending to be something it is not. How something so small, so simple, and so easily overlooked can hold such an elegance has intrigued me.

I played with the colors a bit:

 And finally, a collage tribute to that silent source of beauty and peacefulness:

Spring is coming!

Spring technically isn't here for another week, but on a glorious day like today, it certainly feels like a beautiful spring day! It's the sort of day that makes me just want to be outside and enjoy it- so, even as I post this, I'm sitting on the back deck, loving the sunshine and warm breezes. Of course, such a day deserves to be recorded in pictures, so here we go!

Even the animals are loving this weather! The fish are swarming to the top of the water, the chickens are pecking around in the soft dirt, our big dog is laying out in the sun, and even the beagle is too happy to howl all day!

"This is the day that the Lord has made- let us rejoice and be glad in it!"