To My Dad, On Father's Day

Dear Dad,

A few months ago I heard you answer the phone and talk with so much kindness and gentleness to a man whose parents’s home had just burned down. He was a policyholder, calling about insurance questions he knew you could answer, but over the course of that phone call I got to listen to you love him, counsel him, make him feel seen and known. It was the kind of conversation I’m sure you have every day, but hearing it in that context made something click in my mind about the kind of man you are. 

You often joke that you don’t have a magic wand you can wave to fix everything. I suppose you’re right - it’s not a magic wand. What you have is this dogged determination to love the people around you so well. And to the rest of us, it looks an awful lot like magic. 

I’m only just uncovering the incredible gifts of my childhood with you as my dad: the weeks you spent taking us on vacations, planning everything out in such a way so the whole trip felt like magic to me. The way you noticed the things that were meaningful to each of us and then spent intentional time doing them (for me: reading and build-a-bear stuffed animals.) The easy way you hug me, laugh with me, love on mom. 

All these things you worked so hard to do felt like they just fell into place effortlessly. You never demanded your hard work be applauded or even noticed. You never pointed out the sacrifices you made. You were quiet about all that. You just loved me and our family well. 

I could talk about so many things that make you an incredible father - your patience, kindness, hard work. But it’s this determined love of yours that makes you unique. I think I’ll spend the rest of my life uncovering the little ways you love me and the people around you with this seemingly impossible level of intentionality and hiddenness. 

You’re in a league of your own, Dad. 

Happy Father’s Day. 

Photo: Stefanie Madison | Be Light Photography

To My Husband, On His Birthday

Today is my sweet, caring, handsome husband’s birthday. If you haven’t met Josiah, you should know he is kind and funny. He laughs big, loves big, and cares for the people around him in really specific ways. He’s the first to forgive and the first to ask for forgiveness (even when I’m the one more at fault.) He’s loyal to his friends and puts in the time and effort to make sure the people around him feel seen and cared for. He’s wise beyond his years - which is pretty wise considering how old he is (sorry love - just had to get one birthday joke in there.) 

He is quick to listen, quick to learn, and quick to love. When he’s passionate about something, he’ll read approximately 73 books on the subject, talk endlessly about it, and share “funny” bits of what he’s reading. (You should be warned he will laugh much, much harder than you while reading anything by G.K. Chesterton.)

He’s an incredible writer and teacher. And he’s incredibly humble. Most wouldn’t know how well he balances being a full-time pastor, seminary student, lifelong learner, loving husband and father, and friend to more people than I can count. Most wouldn’t know so I’ll just tell you - Josiah wakes up before the buttcrack of dawn at 4am. He takes care of our dog, he kisses me on the cheek while I sleep, and then he goes to his office to work for several hours on schoolwork or reading. He then works a full day pastoring at the church, usually more than 40 hours a week with absolutely no complaint. He loves to pastor people, answer questions, sit with them in their pain, comfort them. He’s amazing at what he does, and most people only see a tiny glimpse of that when he preaches on Sunday mornings. 

When he comes home, he plays with our daughter and loves her. He delights in her and I can’t help but thank the Lord for how Abbie is getting this picture of how her heavenly father delights in her from her dad. He reads to her, laughs with her, takes her on walks and plays with her at the playground. He helps me care for our home even when he would be completely justified in just kicking his feet up and watching tv for the evening. He reads before bed and kisses me goodnight. 

If someone would have told me I’d marry a man like this, I would’ve thought it was too good to be true. Josiah is one of my favorite gifts from the Lord, and I can hardly believe I’m married to him most days. 

Today, at his request, we’re eating lunch together and burgers for dinner. We’re going to go on a little date night to the movies and eat too much popcorn. It seems too simple a celebration even though it’s what he wants. I want there to be fireworks and confetti and a carnival. I want the whole world to celebrate this man with me. But he wants a quiet evening together and a simple meal. Isn’t that just like him? To be so worth a big celebration and instead to choose a quiet evening? 

I hope I become more like this man every day. I’ve learned so much about life and love and loyalty from him already, and it’s an honor to be his wife.

Here’s to you babe. Happy birthday.

Photo by Jenna L. Richman Photography

Dear Abigail | Do It Again

Dear Abigail,

These days are all repetition and wonder for you. When you find a book you like, you don’t want me to read it to you once, you want me to read it to you five times in a row. The same words, same pictures, same cadence of my voice - close the book, open the book, do it again.

When you find a toy you like you play with it endlessly, turning it over and over in your hands like a magician who has just discovered the magic of an ordinary toy teacup.

When you like a song, you want to listen to it over and over and over. To your tiny ears, the familiar melodies don’t lose their magic with each repetition. It is music, your beloved music, every time.

Everything is new, even when it isn’t. Everything is exciting and lovely and worthy of endless reading, playing, and listening. It doesn’t get old to you. You just keep saying “do it again.”

Weeks ago, after holding you while you got excited about each car that drove past us in the chick Fil a parking lot, your dad shared a quote with me from a book he’d been reading by Chesterton:

But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, "Do it again" to the sun.; and every evening, "Do it again" to the moon. It may not be automatic monotony that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never gotten tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.

You are teaching me every repetitive day about the Lord - how to enjoy his creation, how to delight in ordinary things, how to say with the Father “do it again.”

With Love,

Mom

Photo by Jenna L. Richman Photography