My daddy...Song/Butterfly Kisses

When I heard that Tim Russert had died I picked up the phone and called my dad. Hearing the news of Mr. Russert made me actually tear up. I shared every Sunday morning with him. I trusted him. And I'm not alone. Because I've talked to quite a few people who shed a few tears over his death. But I have a feeling that the trust people had for him stemmed largely from his openness about his love for his family and his endearing book "Big Russ and Me."

But hearing of him being gone made me want to talk to my dad. My dad was there with my first steps and has been there for the rest of this journey. He and I talk almost every day, but we hadn't touched base yet on Friday. So, when I got him on the other end of the phone, I told him I just called to tell him I loved him and hated that I couldn't be with him on Father's Day. But then I informed him I planned on crashing his and mom's anniversary this coming Friday. He laughed.

I said, "You don't mind if I go eat with you?"

He said, "No, we'd love the company. But I'm not going to Leo's."

For those of you who don't know, Leo's is my favorite restaurant. It's a hole in the wall, beer joint in the little town of Lugoff, SC, next to Camden, where I graduated from High School and my parents still live. And it has the best chicken wings you'll ever eat. And food has always been important to me. So important in fact, that it was part of one of the first conversations I ever actually remember having with my dad.

He was taking me to kindergarten one morning and I said, "Dad, do you think God will have fried chicken in heaven?"

He said, "Baby girl, if you love fried chicken God will have fried chicken."

And since that conversation, I have always believed that God cared about everything that mattered to me. That not one thing was too insignificant to ask Him about or concern Him with, because I grew up with a dad who never found any question of mine too inconvenient.

As I've grown, me and my brother's make fun of my dad a lot more. He makes weird sounds, will scare the living pee-turkey out of you when he drives, claps widely when he laughs and yells at himself a lot. I've always dreamed of being on the Amazing Race, even though I'm afraid of heights, have OCD when it comes to staying in hotels, travel with my own sheets and Lysol anything that's bolted down, but have still always wanted to be go on the Amazing Race. My dad would love to be on it too, but when I sent in my audition tape a couple years ago, I ended up auditioning with my baby brother, because we just couldn't handle knowing dad would be caught on television yelling at himself. He does it most often in the kitchen when he drops food, ice, anything. Don't know why he drops so much in the kitchen, but that's just where most of the hollerin' comes from.

But there are other things I've noticed as I've grown too. I notice how much I value his opinion. I love it when I've just written a new story in a fiction book, and I've laughed out loud and I call him to read it and he laughs with me. I call him whenever I'm preparing for a message that I'm going to deliver to a church, and run something by him and he help me finds some reference I need or confirms I've done okay. And when I deliver that same message, I can hear him come out of me sometimes. And every now and then I clap when I laugh, and even yell at myself every now and then. And to be honest, I hope I never lose any of it.

But the thing I appreciate the most about my dad is how he loved me. Because the way he loved me, has allowed me to know the love of my heavenly father. Might not have been that way for all of us. Some of you today might dread this day like the plague. You might have lost your dad and today's just a day to get through. Some of you might not have spoken to your dad in years and just the thought of devoting an entire day to him seems ridiculous. And for many, the way their earthly father raised them has given them a distorted view of their heavenly father.

Can I tell you today, that no matter your earthly example, the Creator of the Universe cares about every detail of your life. Don't believe me? Then why does He bother with knowing the number of hairs on your head, or why would He fashion your days? Because He cares about you so intricately. So uniquely. So completely.

Years ago I was collaborating on a book. I had a poor excuse for a printer and an even poorer excuse for a computer and it crashed about sixteen hours before the finished manuscript was suppose to be completed. Fortunately, I had just printed out a hard copy, but that still meant I had to retype the entire one hundred and sixty five page manuscript. And I had already wasted four hours trying to find someone who could salvage it from my computer. But it was gone.

When I finally finished typing it about two hours before it was due, I pressed the print button and listened as it began to hum from the printer. But I knew the printer couldn't be trusted, so I went down stairs, slipped on some pajamas and came back upstairs and laid down on the sofa in my office so it wouldn't get hung up and delay the project even more. When I laid down on the sofa I realized I had forgotten to put on any socks and my feet were freezing. (Just so you know, I wear socks to bed...) But my body was so tired I couldn't move. And it was either get up and get a pair, or ask Maggie to go get some. Now, if you know anything about Shih-tzu's they are an ornery breed. But Maggie is off the charts! This dog at six weeks old wouldn't let you hold her. She'd climb off your chest and walk to the end of the sofa, let out a huff and make sure you knew she didn't need to be bothered. She let's you know what she needs when she needs it. And all I can say is now she is thirteen and ornery doesn't even begin to describe her.

But here I was physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted, and way too tired to go get socks, when my Maggie, jumped up on the end of the sofa and stretched her furry body right across my feet. This was as big a miracle as the sea parting. I promise. And in that moment, God whispered to my heart, "This is how much I love you. Enough to warm your feet."


(Dad and four of his girls-his oldest granddaughter Hannah & his youngest, Georgia)

I can't tell you how many times I've thought of that through the years when I've doubted if God was really aware of where I was or what I needed. And those words come flooding back, "This is how much I love you. Enough to warm your feet."

So, if your dad is still around today, give him a call. Tell him you love him. If you haven't spoken in years, let it go. Maybe he fathered you from his own broken place. And what will winning a war of wills prove in the end? If your daddy is gone, take a moment and remember him with a friend. Tell them a story about what he meant to you. Or leave a post here and share it with us, we'd love to know. And if you've spent your life thinking God couldn't love you because you've let your father be the mirror, may I whisper the same words to you. He loves you enough to warm your feet. Just let Him. You'll forget you ever even needed socks...