My Daddy

This is my daddy.

Today's his birthday. He turned 67. I don't think he'd mind me telling his age. Because he's proud of it. Because his 67 years have been full. And good. And blessed.

When I was 5 years old, my daddy and mama followed a calling. A calling that a lot of people are too scared to obey. But my daddy was brave. He chose to say, "Where?" when God said, "Go."

We said goodbye to our grandparents and friends, boarded a plane, and flew exactly half-way around the world to live in a country where fair-skinned, blond-haired, blue-eyed girls were more than a novelty....they were an anomaly. We traded Happy Meals for eating rice curries on banana leaves with our hands. We traded skunks in our yards for cobras. We lived in the depths of a culture of people that truly lived poverty, and my dad immersed himself in the people. He preached. He ministered. He loved. And we were blessed.

I've said a million times that my experiences as a missionary's kid were taken for granted every second that I actually lived them. Only now can I look back and realize what an amazing gift my daddy gave my mom, sister, and me. And all because he chose to be obedient. All because he said, "Send me, Lord. I'll go."

My daddy is brave. And smart. And funny (or punny!!!). And talented. And creative. And encouraging. And joyful. And gentle. And compassionate. And inspirational.

I'm so proud of him.

And so honored that somehow he finds it in his heart to be proud of me, too.

Love ya, Dad! Hope your birthday is amazing!