Forty-three years ago today, I put on the dress my mother made and went to church.
I hoped you would be there.
Well, actually, I knew you would be… it was just a matter of when. Because of, you know… that little time management thingy you’ve got going on 🙂
But you were not only there… you were the first one. Before the doors of the church were even unlocked.
We started our life on time – at the perfect time – for us.
And I know you’ll find this hard to believe because of, you know… that little worry-wart thingy I’ve got going on… but I’ve always known you’d be there… known I could count on you.
I knew it for sure that day I sat on a suit case, holding our son tight, in freezing Tok, watching you fix our broken truck with makeshift tools and makeshift parts. It was cold and scary and our faith in mankind was badly bruised, but you pressed on…
Then we pressed on.
In all these years we haven’t done very much “on time” or in the “prescribed manner”.
We’ve lived each other’s worst… and each other’s best.
You’ve risked criticism to pursue a dream or two, a crazy idea or two…
… and my goodness, don’t we know how folks like to criticize.
But you didn’t care back then. And you don’t care now… what others think.
I like that kind of brave.
Because fear of man gets you nowhere fast.
And because in the end, the only things that matter are the promises we made that very first day… to God… to each other… to the family we would have.
When tomorrow rolls around…
…I’ll show up if you will.