I'm a dad. Not every man gets to be. Not every man, who is, feels honored. I do. My kids aren't perfect....should anyone wonder if I ever knew that. But they are ideal....in case you wanted to know.
Wendy is the oldest and the prettiest. She has always been my Wendy-the-Pooh. I admire her. She has been dealt some pretty stiff assignments and mastered every one of them. Plus, she's got an amazingly quick sense of humor.
Dusty had orange hair. He was big into baseball and basketball. I admire him. Today he is a far better preacher/pastor than me and I admire him for it. Plus, he's got an amazingly quick sense of humor.
Now Tim is remarkable in his own right. I admire him. He is a missionary in Guadalajara but has been in foreign fields such as Russia, Portugal, Africa, and Lubbock. He preaches with tears in his eyes over the slightest sentimental occasion. Plus..............he's got an amazingly quick sense of humor.
All three were always appreciative. We started out not having much. They were embarrassed over the two end tables I made from stumps (but I liked them). It was burdening being the preacher for a large congregation and trying to scrape enough money to send my kids to church camp. The kids acted as if they never noticed. God took care and we always had just enough.
If we ever got a few dollars extra saved up we splurged on new dresses or shoes or ball gloves; whatever the need of the moment would recognize as celebratory!
My toughest time being their dad was calling them into the living room on a Saturday night (several times) and telling them how sorry I was; but I felt I would be fired the next day immediately after my sermon. They were always working at being understanding.....and God let us stay.
Today....while all three remain my good kids....it's even more special to know they are also my very good friends. Wendy-Dusty-Tim....thanks for making dadhood a privilege.