Like Father, Like Daughter

     He stands 6 feet 6 inches tall but I swear he's taller. He has sharp blue eyes, freckled skin and until a few years ago, the best beard I had ever seen. When I was a kid, he built not one, but two incredible swing sets complete with the add on of a teeter totter for my brother, sister and I. He used to take me along with the feed stores, sale yards or even on simple loader rides while he filled the trucks for whatever feedings he had later.

      His heart is bigger than his manly frame. He is a giver like you wouldn't believe. People often think he's gruff but really, his bark is so much worse than his bite. His physical strength is astounding, I still believe he rivals any Super Hero out there. He's intellectual both in thought and in action. The world has a lot to learn from his brain and his heart. 

      I learned from him how to be a blesser. I learned that there was always someone other than me who had real needs and that my wants were not always as drastic as I made them seem. He showed me by example the difference between giving someone a hand up rather than a hand out. I learned from him how to hang picture frames, using a paint stick and nail to mark the spot. I caused both of us severe stress when I got my drivers license but I know I could pull a trailer if I needed to because he taught me, despite how not fun that process was. 

     We are cut from the same cloth, my dad and I. We both have those Dutch blue eyes, the Wiersma nose and big feet. Our heartstrings are tugged by meeting needs for people (don't ever let us watch Extreme Home Makeover or Undercover Boss). We both do better in small groups and often flounder our way through parties or anything of the like. We both think too much, don't let things go or try to fix everything. 

     My dad is one who has positioned me to see so much of the world from standing on his shoulders. He bought plane tickets to England and sent me on my way, trusting that I knew this was best for me. He comes and fixes things in our house when Ian is on fires and I just can't muster the gumption to keep everything under control alone. He knows I like tea and never offers to get a "coffee" with me, even though we are going to a coffee shop and that's what he's drinking. He feeds my literacy addiction by renwing his Barnes and Noble membership card every year, I know I use it more than he does. He's let me cry and then reminded me of the strength that I have. I could go on and on about how blessed I am to have this gentle giant as the who led me through 27 years before handing me over to Ian. And even though I'm married, I still know where I came from is a huge part of what I have to give and who I am today. 

     He isn't perfect but neither am I and that's a beautiful thing. In my 28 years, I've never known anyone like him and know that I never will. He's irreplaceable. He's a work in progress that I am fiercely proud of. He's my dad and I wouldn't ask for anything more. 

     So, thank you, Pops, for who you are. Thank you for letting me discover the world one trip to England at a time, one chai tea and a Duncan's pizza or two. You could have thrown in the towel, abdicated your role when it all got to be too much. You didn't though. You've labored tirelessly, endured so much and still loved me in the midst of it all. You are celebrated and loved.