Dad.

Today's my dad's birthday. I just got off the phone with him, one of my best friends.

I am SO SO beyond words grateful and in love with my dad.

He's a thinker, optimist, giver, surfer, hiker, camper. He's gentle, kind, helpful, smart, funny, energetic, skeptical and a little rebellious.

My sister Naomi wrote a beautiful post today about him and I want to share part of it:

"I love your hands. They are so big and strong. They are confident. They have seen so much of the world. They surf. They plant daffodils. They climb mountains. They pull your glasses out of your shirt pocket. They fed your kids for 25 years by being covered in grease and cuts from fixing cars. They held each of us. They blessed us every year before starting school. They have always been there to hug me. They hold mom. I can not wait to someday put my children in those wonderful, beautiful hands."


Love ya, Dad. 


We are lucky lucky lucky.

Not bad for an old guy.

Dad,

In high school when you sang stupid songs and made me pancakes at 5am? I loved it. Loved it then and love it now. Sometimes you came in my room and interrogated me. In a nice way. I knew that you cared. Time went so slowly back then.

There was a volkswagen bus that we used as a tent while camping in the forest. There was a California coastal bay that you took us canoeing in before school one morning. There was your easy laughter, your willingness to cook and your skepticism.

I loved your innate ability to take orders from mom leaning its back against your sly tendency to quietly rebel against anyone else that tried to tell you what to do.

You never stop moving and doing and whistling and joking. You are the reason I cannot teach anything or anyone without an object lesson.

The love that you gave me dipped and pooled, and is now poured forth directly to my own daughters.

Some memories of growing up with you are sharp, but most are fuzzy. I'm sure yours are much sharper and that's the gift you get as a parent I guess. My best ones are the trip you took me and my best friend on when I graduated from high school. I learned so much during our 225 miles together, and at such a pivotal time in my life. Thank you for everything.

Happy Birthday.

Here are a few excerpts from your replies to my blog posts that make my day:

"what could be better than a toilet and a newspaper? better than a religious retreat..."

"that kid's got Jake written all over her face..."

"sobering to realize that it's the daily stuff that imprints character, personality, and a love for life and family."

"another cool part of raising girls is when they are raising girls...

"awesome, Sarah, life is for those who love - you are a lucky valentine..... Dad."

Gideon Returns.

My wonderful parents came and my mom spent the week with me while my dad drove up to Atlanta to pick up our missionary. Here he is, the most mature 21-year-old around:

I love these guys. I dropped them off at the airport today. Upon returning for church and stepping foot in the primary room, I heard the children singing We are as the armies of Helaman. I may or may not have bawled my eyes out.

Lots of love... sticking to the walls, covering the door handles, settling on top of the dressers. I'm soaking it all in. It's always over too soon...

Comings and Goings.

My parents are here! I am wasting precious time with them by typing these words! Ah! Must stop! Top: My mom, clutching Lillie to her heart. This will be a good week.

And yet to come: Gideon returns from a two year mission in Atlanta! He will arrive here on Friday (for a day or so) on his way back home to California. Can't wait to see him.

Happy Father's Day, Dad!

Here's a picture of my dad as a scout leader... I think he was about 21 years old and had my older sister Rachel on his back. I don't have the physical stamina to spend much time in this computer chair tonight, but I will say this. Today during the talks in Sacrament Meeting, I was overcome with gratitude for my father on so many levels. I was overcome also with how much I still miss him. I have lived away from my parents for 11 years and still feel that ache, sitting in church having a little cry for my wonderful, wonderful father. I miss the lines in his face, the sound of his laugh (which just isn't the same over the phone), the way he stands, his old shoes, the way he pours salsa on everything, and the way he makes every situation into a GOOD one. I love ya Dad.