A memory

The craziest thing I ever have done (so says my dad) is pack up my three suitcases and at nineteen take a plane to Rhema Bible College in Tulsa Oklahoma. I went to find a job, buy a car and live with people I had never met. This was the first parting amongst our family and the first time I truly traumatized my dad. We sat out front of the airport terminal (this was back in the day when you could go that far) and cried together as we had been doing for weeks prior. My row was boarding and our last hug done, I gave my ticket and walked in the tunnel. I still remember turning at the corner and seeing above all the people, my dads head craning over and his hand waving goodbye. Months later when I returned for Thanksgiving, his was the first head I saw as I came down the terminal. Every visit in those years, his was the head above the crowd just waiting to meet my eyes, to say hello or goodbye, to let me know he was there, just in case I turned around. To this day, he still stands on the porch when I drive away, until I am out of sight.

It has been one of those ways he has let me know that he is there, whether I need his help or just an encouraging smile, he is there.

Sometimes I see him doing the same thing with my small children, in the simple ways they will someday understand. He stands and watches so that just in case they turn around they will see his eyes upon them, encouraging them, loving them, and making them feel important.

The Big decisions in life alter our course, but it is the small things that truly change us; the small things that give the timeless, priceless gifts we carry forever in heart and mind, the impressions indelible on the soul.
I always look back before I turn the corner.

 

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