My First Love

Daddy (1927 - 1986)

This is the very first man I ever loved with all of my heart. 

He loved me, too, although the story goes that he missed my birth because the doctor told him he may as well go home and get some sleep.  My mother's labor was slow. But then in the wee hours of the morning, I arrived, and some hours later he got the news that he was officially a father. 

He was a very good man, Christian, faithful, kind, strict when necessary, hard-working, handy with carpentry, and determined to fly airplanes instead of following his family in farming or working in the logging industry. 

My stiffest competition for his affection was Mama.

And then when Sister came along a couple of years after me, I had to share Daddy with her, too.

He was a good father with a mix of both playful and strict. The music of the pianist, Liberace, was big in our family in the mid-fifties. When we were very small, Daddy would play like he was Liberace, tickling our ribs and tummies, making us laugh and squirm till we were out of breath. 

His career in aviation resulted in a lot of moves for our family that started out in middle America, took us to the East Coast, then to the West Coast, north to Canada, back to the East, another stint in middle America, and eventually to the Rocky Mountain West. Yes, all those relocations were hard on us. Sometimes Sister and I talk about the results of so much change, but (forgive if this sounds prideful) she and I still turned out to be pretty good people and even graduated without failing any classes along the way. 

As a normal adolescent and with some smart-aleck attitudes as a teen, I was not allowed to get away with such behavior for long when Daddy got back home from his trips. Mama filled him in on "current events" with teen girls, mostly my behavior. 

One of the disadvantages of being the eldest is that everybody (parents and child alike) lacks experience in their roles, so mistakes are made. On the other hand, Sister has told me more than once that she observed us and tried to not make the same mistakes I did. It appears to have served her well.

My mother was the one who led me to ask Jesus to come into my heart when I was 6 years old. It was my Daddy who taught me to spend quiet time alone with the Lord every day with some Bible reading and prayer. I was in the third grade when he impressed me to start that habit, which has continued all these years. 

As I said at the start, Daddy was my First Love. Others have followed, although not in the same way as him. The two enduring romantic loves of my life (my late husband and my current husband) share his more winsome and admirable characteristics, which is what drew me to them in the first place. 

I do wish that Gary had the opportunity to meet Daddy. They were both brought up in some similar circumstances: raised in the Pacific Northwest in small agricultural communities where hard physical responsibilities shaped them into the adults they grew to become.

This week is Daddy's 98th birthday. He's in Heaven and this is the first time my mother is there with him, since her passing last October. 

Scripture tells us in Psalm 127:3 that children are a blessing from the Lord. I know there were times when my parents were tempted to question that in raising me, but I do know I've been very blessed to have them as the first to influence who I have come to be. 

Happy Birthday, Daddy!