My Daddy Is 73 Today

My daddy is 73 today.

He has always been my hero.

When I was between 9 months and 3 years old, my dad was the preacher at a very small church in a very small mountain town.  In fact, my dad was sent there to see if he, or God through him, could keep the church from closing.

While serving that church, my dad also worked full-time at a lumber mill in order to take care of his family of 5.

My first cognitive memory is being in my crib and seeing my daddy coming to "rescue" me from my confinement when he got home from work (I was the youngest of 3 children born in 4 years and I slept in my crib until after age 3).  In my memory, I can still see Daddy's face light up with a great big smile as he was coming toward me.  I do not remember what he said, if anything, as he picked me up out of the crib but I distinctly remember me reaching out for him and I distinctly remember being picked up and hugged.

That's my first memory.

It's a great first memory to have.

It's a memory I have thought of often over the last few years as I've had to literally 

lift him up so many times 

(when he had his toe amputation and when he broke his pelvic bone and arm). 

It's a memory I have thought of often in the last few years as the 

caretaker position has come full-circle.

But even though the caretaker position is me taking care of him now,

my daddy will always be my hero.

Happy Birthday Daddy!

I love you!

Always have!  Always will!