I love being my Dad's daughter

How did Valentine's Day get here so quickly? I planned on writing something about my Valentine and why I love him, but he won't read it here anyway, so a card under his pillow will have to do. Today I am writing about my Dad, who was a Valentine baby 62 years ago.

♥ I have always felt close to my dad. As a father of ten children, I am sure it was hard for him to give each of his kids special (individual) attention, but I always got it from him. My mom said that when I was a toddler, I would pace around the house waiting for my Daddy to come home from work. The minute he walked in the door, if he didn't say hello to me, I would flop down on the floor and scream... so maybe I demanded his attention, but he always gave it to me. He is loved and respected by all of his children. We sing his praises and I think that is because he treated us like adults long before we were of age. He trusted us, respected our opinions and was our number one fan. He was always on the bleachers for our sporting events. He always had our backs. Although the story about me flopping on the ground screaming for attention might allude to it, I don't consider myself a spoiled girl. My dad gave me a lot of responsibility and expected me to earn my way through life. I worked hard as a teenager and saved my pennies to get through college. But looking back now, I realize I was very spoiled. If I ever asked my dad for anything, I knew he would give it to me. He has been my pillar of strength (spiritually, mentally and most definitely financially) all of my life, and I am sure my siblings (and mother) could say the very same thing. ♥

♥ I could share several experiences about my dad "having my back" as a child. And even though I know he is relieved when his children get married and have someone else to lean on, he has still always been there for us. He never intrudes, he doesn't give advise freely, but somehow he lets us know that he is still around. When my husband lost his job unexpectedly at the beginning of 2009, we were devastated. We had just spent our savings closing and furnishing a new home and basically didn't think about (or plan for) being in such a predicament. Of course, we knew we would get through it. It wasn't going to be easy, but we would definitely survive... In those first few days, I remember feeling scared and helpless. I wasn't sure what I could do for my little family. I prayed a lot and cried a lot and felt like somehow we would make it through. One afternoon early in January, I took the dreaded walk outside to get the mail. I had a pit in my stomach because we had celebrated the Holidays extravagantly, not knowing we would lose our only source of income days after Christmas. I felt so guilty knowing there was going to be credit card statements waiting for us. I opened the box and found a small envelope. My name was written neatly in my dad's handwriting. Inside was a white piece of paper with only a few words written in green pen: "Aaron, Janet and boys, we are thinking of you. Take care of each other. Love, Dad" Folded in the white sheet of paper was a check. It was enough money to last us several months. I hated getting money from my parents (thankfully, we were able to send it back to them as soon as Aaron had a job) but it was the answer to my prayers. I felt safe and warm and loved. I still choke up just thinking about opening that envelope. It doesn't surprise me that he sent it because that is the kind of man that he is. Stable, loving, dependable, unpretentious and giving. He is everything I think a father should be and I feel very lucky to be his daughter. I love you, Dad. Happy Birthday. ♥