A Bit About my Dad for Father's Day (and his Birthday)

Last Sunday, I sat on the first pew of Milton Christian Church; my dad’s church. Not many kids get to go to work with their parents and see the culmination of all their hard work in action, but I grew up seeing my dad at work every single Sunday. When I was younger, I did not appreciate the hour my dad would take to talk to his congregation. In fact, I would often find myself wishing church would end quickly so I could go home and have lunch and a nap, per our Sunday ritual. 

As an adult, I feel differently about going to church with my dad. I have a deeper appreciation for what my dad does and the things he talks about every Sunday. I’ve never heard my dad say a hateful word or phrase during any of his sermons. He preaches with positivity and hope. My dad has worked at several churches in my life and I have been to several church events with him because of his job, and I know how rare it is for a minister to keep things positive during a sermon. I admire him for being an encouraging presence in people’s lives. 

Being a preacher’s kid wasn’t easy. My dad had a lot of high expectations for my sister and I; there was a lot of pressure to look the right way and say the right things. Though, I will give my dad credit for never dulling our sparkle or trying to change us.

 I remember in high school at a theater event Taylor and I were in, a parent made a comment about my sister’s clothing and shoes. In high school, Taylor used to wear a lot of short skirts and high heels. She had a love for fashion and standing out among our peers who frequented sweatpants and ugg boots. She was a quiet girl, and because of the way she dressed and looked, the wrong kinds of people never approached her; just the way she liked it. The parent at this event said within my dad’s earshot, “Why does a minister let his daughter dress like that?”. I don’t think my dad responded, but he told us about it and confirmed what we already knew: Kevin would rather us be ourselves than be anyone else.

I never felt like I didn’t measure up to my dad’s expectations. I never felt like I had to prove myself to him. I’ve known nearly my whole life that Kevin’s job as my dad has just been to love me, and he does an amazing job of it. Even when he’s driving me absolutely bonkers and his mother falls out of his mouth over and over again, I know that he loves me.

I’ve been processing a lot of feelings I have about my dad recently. For a larger part of my life, I have thought that my dad was perfect and that he did nothing wrong in raising me. He would be the first one to tell you that’s not true, and I will be the second. I have spent so much time processing the rest of my childhood that I have spent little time processing the mistakes my dad has made; they seem so miniscule in comparison. While processing my emotions, I’ve never forgotten how much my dad loves me and how many sacrifices he’s made for me. He’s hurt my feelings before, sure, whose parents haven’t hurt their feelings? But he loves me with his whole heart. 

I’m lucky I’ve never had to question whether or not my dad loves me. Some people, especially young women, aren’t so lucky to know exactly how their father’s feel about them. I’ve never had to guess and for that I’m grateful. 

My dad has worn many hats as a father. There were often times in mine or Taylor’s life where he had to be our mother as well as our father. In those times he would say, “This is well beyond a father’s call of duty,” but he always took care of business without making us feel bad. He’s the one who took me to buy pads when I started my period. He’s the one who took me bra shopping when I was in middle school. He’s the one who taught me how to shave my legs and how to take care of my personal hygiene. Back then, I was embarrassed to discuss these things with my dad. I remember when we went bra shopping he would talk to me through the dressing room door, “Does it fit? How does it feel? I’m going to send Taylor in to take a look and make sure it fits,”. My face would turn bright red, I’d feel like crying. While it was difficult, it was a necessary part of growing up.

 Most people don’t talk to their dad’s about the kinds of things I’ve always felt comfortable sharing with mine. Over the years he’s become one of my best friends. I appreciate his advice, even when it is unsolicited. I appreciate his opinions on things I’m going through and the jokes he makes when things get a little too serious.

I feel like most preacher’s kids experience life differently than I have; the expectations often outweigh the love, and then the kids start acting out or lose themselves in those expectations. I’m lucky that my dad, even with his high expectations, loves hard. I’m lucky that my dad is a good listener and knows how to learn from his mistakes. Listening to my dad talk about God’s unconditional love last Sunday, I know my dad has only ever tried to love Taylor and I the way he believes God loves us. There’s nothing more I could ask for.

This month I am thankful, of course, for my dad. He is such a blessing. I am thankful for my sister who reads everything I write, supports me, loves me, and is also super funny. I’m thankful for my home where I can express myself and cultivate the life I’ve always wanted. I’m thankful for the summertime, even though it’s starting to get really hot outside.

If you feel like sharing, let me know what you’re thankful for. Sometimes just taking a moment to be grateful can work wonders in your life.