Sunday, June 19, 2011

Solid As a Rock

When I was a little girl, I remember the many summer evenings I spent outside, anxiously waiting for my dad's truck to pull into the driveway. And when the truck finally did come around the corner, my face lit up and my little legs sprinted toward the vehicle. I then jumped into my dad's arms. He pulled me up around his neck and I gave him a kiss on the cheek.

It was always a wonderful feeling when Dad would come home from work. It still is a wonderful feeling. 

My dad is the hardest worker I know. Sometimes I don't give him enough credit. Because not only is my dad a hard worker, but the work he does is awfully hard work. I doubt I could make it a full day doing what he does. My dad rented a building on his 18th birthday and started up his very own tire shop. Now, years later, he has created a business that puts plenty of food on the table and keeps our family comfortable and completely debt free. My dad spends many hours at the shop. Not only does he run all the finances since he is the owner, but he is in it for the long haul (literally). He changes tires and does oil changes. He goes on a lot of service calls to change tractor tires and blown out semi tires. It is hard work. And I know many nights, he comes home exhausted and his body is probably even in pain.

I will never forget one summer afternoon when I was home alone and my dad pulled up unexpectedly. I instantly had a sick feeling since my dad never came home early in the middle of a week. When he walked in the door, my sick feelings grew into fear when I saw my dad's ashen colored face and he was wincing in pain. He was holding one of his hands in the other hand. 
"Dad, what's wrong?" 
He moved his hand aside to show me a grotesque thumb. Or what used to be his thumb. It was now a mashed up chunk of flesh, blood oozing over his hand. Not only that, but the thumb was merely hanging by a thick layer of skin. Just hanging on for dear life to his hand. 
I have never been one to get grossed out by blood and such, but I did not like the sight of my dad's hand like this. Turns out, while changing a tractor tire, the tire had slipped and crushed his thumb. 
I hated seeing my dad in pain. Because my dad is always the strong one. He is the one to always calm my nerves and make me feel safe. 
Luckily, he did not lose his thumb. 

This Father's Day (and every day) I am thankful for my dad and his awesome example. I am thankful for his work ethic. I am thankful for his good attitude. I am thankful for a man in my life that everyone adores. 

I am also thankful I have been able to find a man I want to marry that has so many of the traits my dad has. 

Thanks Dad, and I will always be your angel.    

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