Grow

My dad is a tree. His bark is enduring for he is clothed with strength. He is a giving tree. Firmly planted, his leaves do not wither or fade and he prospers in all that he does.

He passes out barrels and delights in those who come to gather his golden apples and sit in his shade. At times, my dad can be a man a few words but his actions speak volumes. He is anchored and I can confidently say that I have never encountered a more stable man. Over twenty years ago, my father was faced with the reality that his beloved wife had been killed in a car accident. No doubt a painful floodgate was opened and brokenness settled in. My father though, never allowed bitterness to bind upon his heart and cripple his spirit. Never once did he ask for sympathy although it was deserved, he never voiced his grief but he instead gave. My daddy gives little children dollar bills simply to see their faces light up, he goes to restaurants and blesses strangers on his birthday and he serves without expecting anything in return.

Without ever even opening his mouth, he reminds me incessantly of his unconditional love. Dr. Seuss once said, “Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not.” My dad, he cares a whole awful lot. He cares enough to give up everything he has ever wanted in order that he might be able to provide more and invest tremendously into my education. He cares enough to make us pancakes, take us hiking and iron the never-ending pile of clothes. He is in no way overbearing and although he has unearthed much truth for himself, he refuses to force his beautiful discoveries upon me. Yet as I look upon his life my gaze is directed towards that which is much greater than myself and I desire for his truths to become my own.

My dad possesses humble confidence and produces peace wherever his spirit stands. He has truly shown me how to operate through love and how to be a positive thinker. The contraction can’t is absent from his vocabulary; his mental strength is admirable for he dwells in a place of rest despite external circumstance. His heart teaches me that people matter more than anything this world has to offer; they take precedence over money, status and social judgment. My dad reminds me of my outlandish dreams and then shares how I might simply position myself in places where they can be birthed and then flourish. I have realized that rather than exploiting and conquering the world, I am to leave it with a gift. And rather than manipulating and asserting supremacy over people, I have a contribution, no matter the size, that I can gently place in their lives. My father’s life has splashed paint all over the walls of my soul. His vivacity stirs me to be a tree and this paint takes that shape, because of him I long to remain rooted and produce scrumptious fruit. I desire for strangers to rest in my braches and play in my shade, always.