Papa was not a rolling stone.

I am confident and I know my worth. I believe that my voice is worth sharing and that my eyes are strong enough to stare straight into yours. The man I married gives me love that I know how to receive without running from it, questioning it as a fluke, or ruining it through insecurity.

Why? Because I was raised by a father who loved me with all of his might, who had high expectations of me as a child, and who loved my mother right in front of me. He looked at me lovingly and let his face light up when I entered his presence. 

And he still does. Not just for me. But for my siblings and his grandchildren, too.

Look. I'm not saying that people who aren't raised by their dads aren't amazing--I know many who are. But I am saying that having a dad that you can count on is like taking a test with an answer key. Or better yet, like getting a big ass boost over the giant fence of adulthood. You have a huge advantage and you get to go into more stuff thinking that you'll win.

This morning at the track

Yeah, man.

Dad? If you were not my father? Damn. I'd wish you were. Praise God for entrusting me to to this man who had the courage and selflessness to walk in his purpose as a father--and who still does. I realize how fortunate I am, having a dad who is present, not broken, but who is also willing to love. I am so, so grateful. It's a big deal.

Damn, it is.

 
Happy birthday, Poopdeck. You freaking rule.

***
Happy Poopdeck Day.

This is photographic evidence of the 7.1 miles he trucked today to commemorate his 71st birthday. :)

(And also an "ussie" of him and the seniors he walks with each morning.) Poopdeck--You are supposed to SMILE on the selfie, dude. This is also proof that he is 71 years old. LOL!