Daddy's Girl

Can't say I ever was one. A daddy's girl, that is. I am the first of four. There were no sons. I was a tomboy. Still am. Love sports more than shopping and guns more than shoes. Well, maybe about the same there. However, while I can change a tire and the oil and fix a stripped out clutch cable; I can also cook, clean, sew and do all the other traditional girl things. So, no, I was never really your basic definition of a daddy's girl. The other three certainly made up for it. As did the five granddaughters.

I suppose I am too much like him and not just in looks. I'm fiercely independent, stubborn to a fault, and if you tell me I can't do something, my go-to response is usually, "Sit back and watch." I'm not fond of conflict. I tend to retreat into my hidey-hole and when the fireworks are over, act like nothing was ever wrong. I'm more quiet than I used to be. I need my space and my alone time. But I'm also creative. I can envision what something needs to look like and I can figure out how to get there. I have an innate sense of direction. I love getting lost and figuring out how to get back to where I need to be. I love to explore, just for the sake of exploration, never taking the same road twice. All of these things, I got from him.

He is the youngest of three, the only boy, raised by his grandparents while his parents traveled around from job to job. His small town makes mine look like New York City. Once he finished high school, he rode his motorcycle to the Holy Land before it was officially Auburn University. A five hour trip today by car. Back then, there were no interstates, and turning highway 280 into a four-lane was someone's pipe dream. Worked in the lab that helped build the Saturn V. Raced stock cars on the side. Got married. He wanted to be an engineer. Probably would have made it, if there hadn't be this thing called a draft. Took a quarter off and Uncle Sam came calling. Trained at Ft. Benning. Being the only son and the fact that I was in the process of being born helped keep him from the war.

By that time the family had moved to Illinois. There, among other things, he worked at Sara Lee, and Ocean Spray. He helped build Comm Ed, the company responsible for lighting much of the eastern seaboard. He bought a garage and in his spare time, built a car and won racing's Rookie of the Year. He also had daughter number two.

Came home to Alabama to help his parents run a marina and campground they had purchased. Ended up buying it outright and for about ten years, worked sixteen and twenty hour days during the fishing season and just slightly less during the off months. Learned how to be an outboard motor mechanic in order to expand the business. Became a salesman when Evinrude was king and dragged the family to boat shows all over the Southeast. Called it our vacation. Started the county's tourism association. Fought against the pollution of the Coosa River. Became an EMT. Daughters number three and four showed up. The business got sold.

Worked in a couple of odd places, including TVA, helping build a nuclear power plant before settling into law enforcement. Became a "reev-a-noo-er" for the state Alcoholic Beverage Control Board. Busted up whiskey stills, carded underage drinkers, and became the bane of the students at that other university. Was an original member of the governor's Drug Task Force. Provided security for one governor's wife during their term. Grandchildren started to make appearances.

He finally retired after high blood pressure, heart problems and political backstabbing began to take its toll. Now he travels around seeing the states and comes home to putter in his garage. Builds whatever he wants, works on whatever car or boat happens to be handy, takes the only grandson (and the granddaughters) fishing. Still working on remodeling that monstrosity of a house. Still an engineer at heart.

Now that I think about it, I guess I'm a daddy's girl after all.

Kicking Baby Birds and Other Not-So-Fun Parental Jobs

It seems as if the older my children get, the more involved (and crazy) life gets. For example...

The Cinderella has officially graduated from high school with honors and as a member of various extracurricular organizations, so she was privileged to wear multiple cords and stoles. Her favorite, however, was the ubiquitous "I'm my own self and therefore cool" cord that usually hangs above the tapestry by our backdoor. My heart cracked a bit to see how much she has really grown.

A week later, we attended freshman orientation. You have to understand that to say The Cinderella does not like change is not simply an understatement. It's more like saying tornadoes don't like trailer parks. All the way there she kept repeating, "I can't do this. I don't know anyone. What if I don't like it? What if I bomb all my classes? I don't know what to do? What if? What if? What if?" By the time the weekend was over, she had toured the new kinesiology building, and met one-on-one with an Olympic coach who has agreed to let her work with him as he trains athletes. Does she know what sport? Nope. Does she care? Not in the slightest. All she knows is it's progress toward her goal of becoming an athletic trainer to the stars. I watched her grow a little more that weekend, and the crack in my heart got a bit wider. 

I just got back from a road trip with The Free Spirit. She has talked about moving to North Carolina for awhile now so we decided to go see what all the fuss might be about. I must say it was absolutely beautiful. I adore the mountains and I would love to spend as much time there as I possibly could, so I understand the pull the area has for my middle child. Yet, as a parent, I'm having a difficult time with agreeing with her reasoning for moving in the first place. She says she wants to go because our small town doesn't have what she needs. Yet she can't articulate exactly what that is. I know that she, too, is growing, but the crack in my heart is wide open on this one.

The Eldest is not currently employed. She says she felt that God was leading her in a different direction than radio so she left her position with our local station. I have no idea what she is going to do. She is already grown but...

The Cinderella is currently on a mission trip in Brazil. Alone. Well, not technically, but she is there sans a parental unit. Plus, that whole change thing is against her. She has had to deal with a ten plus hour flight when she hates to fly. She says it causes her to go deaf and no amount of chewing gum or yawning helps. She will be working with a Baptist missionary who is trying to plant a church, but she was not raised in a Baptist environment, so she is a bit clueless about how to proceed there. It's the middle of the 2014 World Cup. While the team is not in the same city as the games, we are all aware how serious Brazil is about its soccer. Lastly, while she has had two and a half years of classroom Spanish, she doesn't speak one iota of Portuguese. Talk about a growth experience. I'm not sure how many more cracks my heart can take right now.

I know that these situations are not any where near the vicinity of my control. I know that each one requires trusting that God will take care of them, and that "all things work together," etc. I know the whole "train up a child" mantra. I've prayed. (Believe me, I've prayed.) But the parent manual never mentioned how empty your soul would feel when you kick that last baby bird out of the nest. I'm not sure it's something I can (or want to) get used to. 

So...

Promise me you'll be okay. Promise me you'll look both ways before crossing the street (so you don't ruin Christmas). Promise you call just to let me know you're still alive. Promise you'll study. Promise you'll finish your degree (I don't care what it is). Promise me you'll find a respectable job. Promise me you'll find a church family that loves you and loves Jesus. Promise me that you will treat other people with respect, no matter what. Promise me you will act like a lady. No matter what. Promise me you will love each other and other people, even if they seem unlovable. Promise me you will listen to the other side before you make that final decision. Promise me you'll do your research. Promise me you'll say no. Promise me you'll come home on occasion. Promise me you'll save your money. Promise me you will marry Godly men. Promise me.

Just don't promise me grandchildren.