Wednesday, February 15, 2012

I remember a dump truck

I’m pretty sure I had the best dad ever. He’s been on my mind a lot lately. Yesterday would have been his 77th birthday and I would have loved to have celebrated it with him. Of course, he’s praising our heavenly father…could there be a better birthday celebration? No way!

Yesterday, one of my coworkers brought his daughter into work for a short time while his wife was attending a meeting. As I listened to her happy chatter, my mind warped back in time to the late 70s and early 80s when I was the chatterbox at my own Daddy’s elbow. Daddy drove a dump truck at this time in our lives. He hauled dirt and gravel, and I surely don’t know what else, for various construction projects.
google images
I didn’t go to work with Daddy often, but when I did, oh, what a treat! I remember bumping and bouncing along in that big, old, yellow dump truck. Scattered about me, on the seat of the truck were coloring books and crayons, baby dolls and trucks, and books and chalkboards; plenty to keep a young girl busy. Daddy’s old, black, battered lunch box and a thermos of coffee sat in the seat between us and mid morning there was usually a Little Debbie Oatmeal Pie and milk fished out of the box for me to enjoy while Daddy dumped his load.
At midday, Daddy would pull that big truck into the parking lot of a small store in Lake Kiowa. He’d help me out of the truck and hand in hand, we’d make our way to the back of store and the old lunch counter. Though our lunch was usually brought from home, we still sat at the counter with the other men. I said my hellos, and I’m doing just fine, thank yous and then quietly ate my sandwich, listening to the rumbling words and laughter of the men at the counter. I loved watching my dad with other men. I recognized the respect he was given and I was proud of him.

During these times, I’m sure I filled my daddy’s ear with endless chatter about whatever was important to a 6 or 7 year old girl of the times. He would respond with “Mmmmhmmm” or “We’ll See” or “Is that so?” But sometimes, he would simply nod. I didn't have to see him nod to know
he acknowledged me, to know he believed in me, to know he was there for me -- no matter what.

That's the childlike faith I'm seeking for myself now. I want to live my life BELIEVING my heavenly Father, my God, my creator. Believing he acknowledges me, believes in me and is ALWAYS there for me. Even when answers to prayers take longer than I think they should (you know, not instantaneous ;) ), even when the answer isn't what I WANT. Thank you, God, for keeping your faith in me, even when I let my faith in you falter. ♥

1 comment:

Mardell said...

Hi Amy,
What a beautiful post about your Daddy. It brought tears to my eyes. I know how much you miss both of your parents. What a neat memory to share w/us.