I’m currently reading a book about awakening the dreams within you. It suggests thinking about what you loved and longed to do as an 8 to 10-year-old child, and likely that longing is still within you. It’s what you’re made to do.
Calling to mind 35-year-old memories is not the easiest thing to do, but what came to mind as something I loved as a child kept circling back to one thing; I loved being with my dad. He was my favorite person. Somewhere in the ballpark of 8-10 years old, I even won a school contest and got a newspaper nod for an article I wrote entitled “Why My Dad is the Best!”.
What exactly was it that I loved about my dad? Everything.
As a farm kid, I spent so much time working alongside him running errands, riding tractors, milking cows…ad infinitum. The alternative was being in the kitchen and indoors with my mom and I took every ticket to get out of there that I could. (Poor mom didn’t get any tickets and I know now in my adulthood that, like me, she also would have much preferred the great outdoors).
Memories of sitting beside Dad in his beat-up Chevy farm truck seem to be the strongest and the fondest for me. My view from the passenger seat was consistently this: windows rolled down, left arm propped on the window eager to wave to any and every passerby, AM radio quietly playing, dad singing along while expertly balancing a long stem of prairie grass in one side of his mouth.
Being with my dad was easy; talking was optional, and observing and imitating were everything. Peace surrounded and followed us whatever we were doing. We went about our days completely unhurried, every stranger was his friend, and every friend a good half-hour conversation. The art of small talk and easy laughter were never in short supply.
I even loved his unique name, KayDon, it wasn’t like any other dad I knew. He was special. He was mine.
His zeal and love for sports became mine. I played sports mostly for his enjoyment (and for sure ran track only for that reason) and we watched sports together often. His teams became my teams and because of that, booing the Huskers and rooting for the Twins will forever be in my DNA.
I could go on and on but, simply put, I love what he loved. I wanted to be like him.
As I thought about my 8 to 10-year-old self and how this love of being with my dad could possibly line up with the fulfillment of my middle-aged dreams, it occurred to me that this is still my passion. I love being with my Father. The relationship I had with my earthly father prepped and primed my heart to transfer this longing to its rightful place - into my heavenly Father’s hand. It becomes a beautiful picture of a father handing over his daughter-bride to her groom.
As I came to this realization, a recent memory came to mind. Last year, while I was sitting at a basketball game, I began to be nostalgic and a bit sad that my dad wasn’t with me. Because there is still no one I’d rather watch a game with and many miles separate us now, I feel this feeling often. Before I let my emotions get the better of me, I said to the Lord, “God, I miss my dad and I wish he were here.” As I felt the Spirit’s peaceful presence wrap around me, he whispered gently, “Your Father is here.”
That quiet and gentle whisper altered my perspective and began to turn loneliness into gratefulness. My Father was there. It turns out, he likes basketball as much as I do. Or perhaps, he enjoys me enjoying basketball. Since then, a ballgame rarely goes by without an expectation and anticipation of watching a game in the presence of my Creator. My friend. My Abba.
As I lean more deeply into my heavenly Father, I find how much I want to be with him. He has always been with me, but I want to be with him; aware of him in all circumstances. The days I purposefully set my mind on him and what he’s doing and speaking, are the days filled with adventure. Awe and gratefulness are easy to come by because he is always up to something that I get to be witness to and often a part of. If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that I want to be about my Father’s business.
Just as I wanted to be like my earthly father, I want to become like my heavenly one. Talking is optional and observing and imitating are everything, so I will follow him. I want to love what he loves, know what he knows, do what he does, and think as he thinks. I want to take pride in his name and in calling him mine because, let’s face it, my Father is the best!
