AS we approach parenthood, it’s surely normal to be reflective of how we were raised—of those things our parents did that made especially lasting imprints on our little hearts. In chatting with a friend today, I was so excited to reminisce about our mornings before heading off to school. Daddy made the routine so doable, and how he exhibited such refined patience around three high maintenance girls is beyond me! For the longest time, he woke us up to the song: “Good morning, good morning, good morning, it’s time to rise and shine…” He made our lunches every day (we went to a private school that didn’t have lunch service)—usually a sandwich, bag of chips, and Little Debbie (I favored oatmeal cream pies). I always said “thank you” to Daddy for making those perfectly cut sandwiches, because I knew I sure would get tired of building a sandwich, times three, every morning, for years. Also, when we only had 10 minutes left before it was time to leave, he would holler up the stairs: “ten minutes, girls, ten minutes!” And, I remember terrorizing Sissy over her hair—her natural, untamed curls that went every which way. I envy her locks now, but growing up I used to peer at her around the cereal box and tease her while she was still trying to wake up…
Then came a memory that nearly caused an avalanche of tears—before squeezing into Daddy’s Oil Field Research Laboratories truck and making the 6.5 minute drive to school, we gathered in a circle, hands entwined, to pray. To acknowledge Whom our day should be about—Jesus. To check that our priorities were in place. To be embraced by the security and love of a praying family.
What precious memories they are—and how they continue to bless! I pray Shawn and I will create the same nurturing, prayerful environment that my parents did for their girls. Mommy & Daddy: if you’re reading this, THANK YOU!
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