Many people pitty him. And maybe they should. He does have four daughters and no sons. He is without a doubt out-numbered and has been for the better part of his life. A sports fanatic, who couldn't get any of his four daughters seriously interested in golf, tennis, basketball, or any sport he knew well. We grew up as dancers, cheerleaders, cross country runners, actresses, majoring in elementary education, communication, Spanish and theater. None of us quite walked down the paths he knew so well - basketball and business, but he didn't resent that. He didn't wish he had boys (at least he never let on that he did). He just learned what we loved and helped us love it more. He became the number one hero in five women's lives and is the spitting image of soft protection and strong comfort. Boys tend to fear him, which I happen to love. To us he just a big softy, but to them he is strong and silent, intimidating would be putting it lightly. He is the first one in the house up on Saturday morning and he runs errands for the day before any of us even start thinking about moving. By the time we get up, the coffee is ready and he sits with his back against the window in the kitchen, reading the newspaper and waiting for someone to share his findings with. He made up songs and stories when we were little and entertained us by dancing with the vacuum cleaner doll, coordinating his Halloween costumes with ours, changing song lyrics to make them applicable to the moment, laughing when we were funny, and helping with any and all school activities, most importantly stomping on hundreds of cans for recycling campaigns. I still have a postcard he wrote me while on a business trip when I was not even a year old yet. He taught five girls how to ride their bikes, play putt putt, and hit a soft ball. He learned the name of every motion and skill in cheerleading and would frequently comment on the arabesque or toe touch someone had done. I remember specifically after one game, he told me that my hurkey looked so pretty- I thought I might cry. He knew, loved, cared, and supported. He took pictures at prom and always remembered to tell us we looked beautiful. He answers the phone when I call and puts up with my ridiculous questions about budgeting, car insurance, my job, what I'm going to do with my life. He still wonders what he is going to be when he grows up. He listens to songs that I like and will text me when they're on the radio. Him and my mama sponsored several gas tanks between here and Abilene and lovingly paid for my education and one of the best experiences of my life. He took us on beautiful family vacations and drove the whole way to Florida, while we played gameboys or watched movies. He loves my mom - so much it makes me want to cry. They are a beautiful picture. He is my beloved Dad. A man who has clearly demonstrated the picture of what being a father means and should look like. I could play the "my dad is better than your dad" game all day long. And although I am confident I would destroy you, I would rather just take today to celebrate mine and all wonderful Dads. Your daughters need you. They need to know that you believe in them and that you trust them. They need to know that you will protect them from anything that comes along and they need to know that you will sometimes let them walk out on the limb to see how steady they are. My dad has had to catch me several times and I am confident that he will even more in the future. I know where I stand with him and I know I can ask him anything. I know he'll be there for me, but he taught me boundaries so that I know when to ask and when to figure it out on my own. Someday I'll get to meet my Heavenly Father face to face, but in the meantime, I am so thankful for an earthly one who will stand up and fight for me - it makes the ache of waiting for the real thing a little more dull.
Happy Birthday, Hero of my Heart. I am blessed to get to celebrate you today.
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