I miss my Daddy so much

Momma and Daddy with me and Marc at our commissioning service. We left the next day for Moscow. I am so crazy about my parents, it's ridiculous.

How blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked, nor stand in the path of sinners, nor sit in the seat of scoffers! But his delight is in the law of the LORD, and in His law he meditates day and night. He will be like a tree firmly planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and its leaf does not wither; and in whatever he does, he prospers. Psalm 1:1-3

A long time ago, a Sunday School teacher challenged us to memorize this chapter, which I did. Every time I come across it, whether reading the Scripture or just in my memory, I always think of my Daddy. More than anyone I know, my Daddy is a person willing to make the hard choices in life, simply because they are the right choices. He is a tree planted by the living water. People who know our family often have said that I may look like my Momma, but I have a whole lot of my Daddy in me. I always say, "Thank you."

I miss my Daddy. Make no mistake about it...I am extremely close to both my parents. Days like today, set aside for celebrating our fathers, are especially hard when you're five thousand miles away from him. But if he were here (or if he were even awake in Florida, where it's midnight), I know that he would tell me to keep my chin up, to remember what I am here for, to remember Who I am here for, and to know that I am loved more than I can imagine. I know, because in the darkest days in Moscow, that's exactly what my Daddy has said to me. Now I know that he says that and then gets off the phone and goes to the garage and prays and worries about me, but on the phone, he's always encouraging.

Those of you who know my Daddy may be surprised by his tenderness. A successful businessman, my Daddy is likely not known in that world as the tender, gentle guy I am describing. I know, because in the schools I've worked at, I'm pretty sure tender and gentle would not be words people would use to describe me. I am, like my Daddy, a fiercely focused, intense person, and I can sometimes come off as gruff or distant. I can remember being in college and having my plane met by people who worked for Daddy. I told one of them, the station manager in OKC, that I knew he had better things to do than to escort me to baggage claim and to my car or ride every time I flew in or out of OKC, which was often. He replied that considering who my Dad was, he had absolutely nothing more important to do than to make sure I got from point A to point B safely. I got kind of tickled at that, thinking of my Daddy with his black socks and shorts (he doesn't do that anymore, thank goodness!), his cigar, his messy hair in the mornings. But I came to understand that, though he was just Daddy at home, he was Somebody at work. As an adult, I appreciate that my Daddy never really thought of himself as Somebody. He was just a guy who worked hard and was moved up the ladder.

When we came to my parents to tell them we were moving to Russia, my Daddy cried. Not because he was sad, though I think it was sad for him to have the grandkids taken away, but because he was so proud of us. He pitched in and worked hard to get us ready to move. He cleaned and helped us sort stuff, took care of the kids while we got things done, and helped us just generally get ready to go. That could not have been easy for him--I know it wasn't for me. He spent the night before we left for Moscow weighing our bags, helping us sort and pack, cleaning our apartment at ILC. And when we said goodbye the next morning...well, I can still see his face as he walked to the car. Like Momma, Daddy has come to a peace about us living across the world, but that doesn't make it easy. Never, ever think it is easy to be away from my parents. It is, by far, the hardest part of being here. Language is difficult, but nothing compares to the difficulty of how much I miss my parents.

I wanted this to be eloquent and beautiful, but I've cried my way through it and feel like it's jumbled. Here's what I want you to know about my Daddy: he's God's guy. He loves me and my family so much. He is crazy about Marc, who is crazy about him, and with whom Marc talks for hours on end some weeks. He has had fabulous success in the business world because he is smart and hard-working, but also because he is the most ethical person I know. He lives his faith. He cares about missions intensely. He is close to each of my kids in a different way. My sisters and I talk to our parents often. Our big joke is that we are the only women of our age we know (I am the youngest at 40) who have to call our Daddy and let him know we got home okay. He is highly respected because he's highly respectable. He makes me want to be the person he sees me as being. He is so proud of me, and I am so proud of him. I am glad people think I am like him. It makes me think better of myself.

Okay, enough of the crying. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are loving on your Daddy or remembering him with great love, and that you slept more than four hours last night. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye