nurturing Thursdays: early wishes for…

…a very blessed Father’s Day!

You must be checking your calendar to see when it is. Don’t worry. I’m a month early. Because my daughter’s wedding will be front and center soon, I wanted to give my husband his due before all the hoopla surrounding her day overshadows everything else.

As devoted as I am to my daughter, I continue to be amazed at my husband’s unconditional love and loyal support. He is selfless when it comes to providing for us. There has never been a time since our daughter was born when he put his needs before ours. I don’t even remember him asking for a single material thing. I’ve always made gift choices which I thought would please him; whether or not there was an occasion to celebrate.

I didn’t know my dad. He died when I was one. Without realizing it, I’m sure I sought surrogates as a child growing up. There were 2 men who resonated as father figures…my best friend’s dad and our family doctor. Their small gestures made me feel that an adult other than my mom cared about my well-being. I understood that they belonged to other children, but when these men spoke to me I basked in the warmth of their attention, however fleeting. How I wished I was their daughter. I would have been proud, and pleased.

My husband has turned out to be just such a dad. He is everything I would have wished for as a child. Thank God I grew up subconsciously knowing the kind of man with whom I wanted to share my life. He also happened to be…

…the perfect father…

…for our precious daughter.

………hugmamma.278


More inspirational thoughts at…
https://beccagivens.wordpress.com/2016/05/12/nurt-thurs-move-on/

 

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the greatest love…

If memory serves me correctly, the Bible teaches that…”There is no greater love than that a man lay down his life for another.”

As Father’s Day approaches I can’t help but think of the men who have done just that for their loved ones…lay down their lives…in the process of providing for their families.

Cover of

Cover of Father’s Day

Women get much of the credit for raising our youngsters to be exemplary human beings. We dote upon them endlessly, instilling them with manners, compassion, self-confidence, skills for success. We are there to transport them…to volunteer on their behalf…to play hostess to their friends…to console or to celebrate, depending upon the circumstances.  

Mothering is hard work, for sure. However the rewards we reap are priceless, beginning with…an endless supply of hugs….and “I love you’s.” We don’t have to wait for a special occasion, like Mother’s Day.

My daughter and I begin and end our phone calls with “I love you.” And as though that weren’t enough…we manage to incorporate a few more into our conversation. When I’m searching for something else to say, I fill the void with…”I love you.”

By comparison, fathers often miss the small moments in their children’s lives. They’re on hand for the big occasions…birthdays, graduations, weddings. Fathers are lucky if they make the ball games, the recitals, the swim meets, opening nights. It’s more than likely when their jobs beckon…dads are off and running…whether they like it or not.

As a seasoned travel industry employee my husband hasn’t had the luxury of witnessing the minutiae of our daughter’s life. When she began focusing upon a dance career at age 14, their time together was  further impacted.  

When our daughter was 16, she and I relocated 3,000 miles from home so that she could train with a professional company. My husband remained behind working to support the venture on top of his other responsibilities.

As you can well imagine, parenting took on a whole, new twist. I was pretty much single-parenting a teenage-wannabe- ballerina in a strange environment…with dad a phone call and a plane ride…away.

I can’t say which of us fared better…or worse. The day my husband flew home after helping my daughter and me settle into our new lives…I shed a few tears. My best friend and soul mate was leaving .

We both had to hold up our end of the deal. Mom had to help make the dance dream come true…dad had to pay for it.

Like all fathers who love their children very much, my husband continues to give as completely of himself as he is physically able. Between his job and his duty to family, there is no gap…no doing just for himself.  His love for my daughter and me is…that great.

Since my father died when I was one, I cherish the relationship between my husband and my daughter. She and I agree…her dad’s the best.

every day’s father’s day…in our home…Imported Photos 00345

………hugmamma.

…if i’d had a dad…

My dad died when I was one. I don’t remember anything about him. I have one photograph of his image. I’ve had to make do with that. As a result, I’m open to stories about fathers, preferably ones that leave me feeling warm and fuzzy inside. Tales of unconditional love that ended in a happily ever after. Not that everything went the way of a fairy tale, but that good prevailed. I’d like to share just such a story that ran in our local newspaper.

Superman

Superman (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Superman wears a father’s cape”
by Sebastian Moraga

   This is my first fatherless Father’s Day. He died in March.
   Now, if you fear this will turn into a weepfest, rest assured, it won’t. My dad is the reason why.
   My dad had a tough life. The heart trouble that killed him at 69 started in grade school. His father died in his arms; his only marriage ended in divorce. And though he trained as an accountant, he turned 50 working as a fisherman in Dutch Harbor, Alaska, miles away from an IRS office.
   But he never stopped believing that he was close to his next great day. To my dad, the past mattered little and today’s troubles would be overcome tomorrow. Girl break your heart? You’ll find a better one. You watch. His arthritic knees hurt? So what, they hurt yesterday, too. Now how about those Mariners?
   That optimism bathed almost all of his actions. It made you feel safe and certain that things would improve. Even if they didn’t, he made you feel like he was on your side and that might just be enough to weather the storms.
   While the winds blew, he might tell you a story or two.
   Like the time a man entered the kitchen of the restaurant where he worked, greeting everybody. My dad just nodded at him and went about his business, leaving the man to walk out feeling a little perplexed. Then a waitress zoomed into the kitchen and asked my dad. “Wasn’t that exciting? Tony Bennett in our kitchen.”
   Or like the time a coworker of his left a newspaper in the lunchroom fridge. When quizzed about why, the man could not formulate an answer before my dad chimed in with, “It’s ’cause he likes his news fresh.”
   Or like the time in the 1940s when he, his mom and his three siblings boarded a bus and the driver referred to my grandma as “Miss.” My dad, at most 8 years old at the time, snapped, “Mrs. Not ‘Miss.’ Can’t you see her four cherubs?”
   Then when the storm passed, he would cook you something and ask your opinion of Ichiro.
   So this Father’s Day, I will skip remembering there’s one phone call that won’t happen, and instead remember the good times–the Mariners, the gigantic meals, the banana milkshakes. How he persevered until he found the job he loved, how he told everyone for 33 years that things would turn out all right for me.
   It’s what he would have liked me to do, because he loved me and wanted me to be happy.
   Besides, it’s not like I won’t miss him June 18. The storms of life keep brewing, and now I can’t hear his stories or the sound of his casino chips as he bets them all on me.
   He was my John Wayne, my Superman, my RoadRunner. Everything that is invincible in this world, I saw it in him. Let a squadron of Wile E.s take their shots–we all know who wins.
   All that is gone, and yet reasons to rejoice abound.
   His knees don’t hurt anymore, his heart doesn’t trouble him anymore and he’s buried next to his older brother, whom he loved. When it came time to die, he died in his bed, still aware, still looking forward to tomorrow and more than 7,000 miles away from Dutch Harbor.
   For the tough life he had, that is a bouquet of blessings.
   So this Sunday, when the blues come calling, instead of mourning him, I will thank him. Thank him for a life well lived, for the sweet example he set of how to be a good dad, and for the thousand and one stories I wish I could share with you.
   Like the time we went to a Mariner’s game and I yelled at the batter to drive a run in. “C’mon, dude, take him home.”
   Behind me, I heard a familiar voice whisper, “Country roaaads…”
   Rest easy, my Superman.

 A flesh and blood father, not a comic book character…but definitely a superhero! Like my father-in-law whose loving spirit hovers close by. Just in case…

happy father’s day…dad…

………hugmamma.

365 photo challenge: happy

It’s been a month of happies………Happy Father’s Day

Happy Anniversary

 

…soon-to-be Happy Fourth of July

…and Sylvia’s Happy Birthday!!!

…happines…….all around………hugmamma. 🙂