Cracked Wheat at the crack of dawn...

Interestingly enough, my memories of daddy this weekend have centered on those days in high school when he would wake up with me in the early, early mornings before Seminary. Usually, he was up long before I was (at least during tax season). Already on the table when I came downstairs were two bowls, two spoons and two cups. He would be at the stove, finishing making either Cracked Wheat or Cream of Wheat and when I said good morning to him, he would usually give me a hug and tell me to get the sugar and the milk on the table. Then, we would talk about life, school, my friends, occasionally even Tyler and any other boys I was interested in (although not often) and anything else I wanted to talk about. It was only about 15-20 minutes every morning, and sometimes not even every morning, but those times are precious to me. The fact that he would take the time in the mornings to fix me breakfast and make sure that he was caught up in my life, meant so much to me.

He also taught me the importance of being cheerful in the morning, for no matter what time it was, he was always smiling, sometimes even singing, when I came downstairs. That's a lesson I still haven't quite mastered, but I try to be cheerful for Katy in the morning, at least. I hope that I can be as happy and caring of a parent as Daddy always was to me.

I learned so many things from Daddy, but those mornings taught me so much about our father's love for each one of us and especially for me. They carry a special place in my heart that I hope I can pass on to my children. Thank you, Daddy. I love you.