The 2nd grade worksheet asked about my hero. Easiest question ever. And it hasn’t changed.
My Dad, because he’s the greatest.
I called him hero long before I understood how heroic he really was. Is. He did nothing earth-shattering to earn the title, but all the little dailies added up.
My Dad loved his four girls and our Mama. He made us feel secure and took us out for Daddy dates—mostly Wendy’s frosty’s. He came to watch us cheer or sing, and wrote letters to say he was so proud to be our Dad. He spoke life with his words. He encouraged us often. I’ve heard him read the book of Proverbs aloud more times than I can count. Remember what Proverbs stands for girls? That’s right, Wisdom…Skillful Living. He served people, laughed with his whole body, worked hard, and played harder. He stayed when so many other Dads walked away. He still loves us like crazy.
He participated in the Army Reserves when we were small. When he left for Army weekends, my sisters and I held pity parties. We skated around the basement, wiping tears and singing along with his record.
Fighting soldiers from the sky
Fearless men who jump and die
Men who mean just what they say,
The brave men of the Green Beret.
Green Beret or Black Beret, it was all the same to me. He was our Superman, as fearless as anyone. We didn’t want him to jump, and… Well, we just wanted him home safe.
When we were all grown, we bought him a Superman sweatshirt. We still believed Clark Kent had nothing on our Dad. I saw him wearing that sweatshirt just the other day.
He was probably singing too. Growing up, we heard the same songs over and over. It is Well With My Soul. Amazing Grace. At the Cross. Or songs like Bad Moon Rising, one from his old days.
He still sings to my babies the same words he sang to us—
Rocking chairs, rocking babies, rock-a-bye, the rock of ages, side by side, we’ll be together always…
Or one of his other favorites, Davy, Davy Crockett, king of the wild frontier. My kids hear this and yell—Hey, that’s Grandpa’s song!
Don’t I know it. He owns a number of songs, if you ask me. Along with the Tarzan call, which he loved to shout out the back window on Saturday mornings to get us all going. I mean, make us all laugh.
When my husband was still my boyfriend in college, he met my Dad the first time. Afterward, he said, “Your Dad wasn’t anything like you said. He’s just a normal guy.”
I didn’t understand how he missed it.
No he’s not. My Dad’s a hero.
This is another Five-Minute Friday post with Lisa-Jo Baker. Join us! TGIF!