Paternal Blessings

Dad,

   As I grow older, it's gotten easier for me see the things that have always been and name them as blessings, rare and true. You're a blessing, Pops, sure and simple.

   The memories of:

• Riding on your practically six foot shoulders (and thinking, "How tall and special am I! Look at April and Matt down there on their feet!" Not realizing that you hadn't been stingy with your shoulders for them either...) 
• The rides in your truck (These were always a joy - the stories you told! And how silly was I when you asked me to go and I said no?)
• Being able to witness your wisdom in action through your life decisions and work decisions (You asked me once if I was ok for having moved as a teenager. The raw humility and self-examining love with which you asked stays with me, Dad.)
• And your wonderfully silly sense of humor (The wrist dance! Methodilfists, D.W., L.F., really?!)

   These memories and more are gifts, treasures that you, my dad, gave generously to me, your daughter. I honor you for them.
   I honor you most for your heart. A heart that knows and loves the Savior. Your heart, though imperfect, has had the steady love of God flowing in and out. I respect and love you so much, my friend, my father, my brother in Christ. There are so many parts of me that were given by you.

Love,
Your Bekah

___________________

Grandad,

   I never knew you, but I know you well. Through your children, your daughter, and those you encountered along your way, I've learned to love you. How special you are to them! How their eyes glint with joy, love, and thankfulness when they speak of you. I have only one picture of us together and no memories at all but I feel - I carry - the legacy of faith and love you gave them. How blessed by God we were to have you. How blessed by God you were, Grandad. A poor farmer from the plains of Texas - a child of the King and an heir to such a great inheritance. Until we meet again.

Love,
Your Bekah

___________________

Papa,

   Gigi still hangs your santa hat on the hall tree every Christmas. The last time I saw it I replayed a memory of touching your tan, bald head while climbing onto the couch with you. So many of my memories exist in the things that signify 'Papa.'

• Your chevy truck thick with the smell of tobacco juice, gasoline, and the auto shop. A ride with you was like being picked first in kickball.
• Your spot on the orangey, itchy couch. When you left the spot empty it was a treat to sit there knowing that I had the best seat in the house. (I had to be careful not to kick the can by the corner on the floor...)
• The golf balls and those weird little stick things with the curved tops in all sorts of fun colors. (I didn't know what they were for at the time...)
• The feel of your long, tan arms holding me while your deep voice reverberated at my ear. 

   I've missed you Papa but I'll carry your love. I'll see you again soon.

Love,
Your Bekah