I have in my jewelry box a most prized possession. Actually, that box holds several items that have deep meaning to me. But the one I’m thinking of today was given to me in an old medicine bottle, that had been kept in a drawer by my Mother for safekeeping until someday arrived.
It is a child’s dress-up watch. You remember the kind that had a thin, black elastic band and a ‘gold’ plastic watch with hands eternally stuck at 5:00 o’clock? Nothing like the watches made for children today, that watch from yesteryear was made to look like an adult’s watch.
The watch itself looks rough. It is smashed. The elastic is rotted with age. But it is as precious to me as the diamonds and emeralds that also reside in my jewelry box.
You see, that watch is the earliest gift I have from My Sweet Daddy. I don’t even recall getting it the first time. My Mother tells me that he brought it back from some trip when I was just a toddler. She said that I put in on and refused to take it off of me. I would hold up my little hand and ask, “What time is it on The Watch My Sweet Daddy Gave Me?” For weeks and weeks, that watch was on my wrist. I slept in it, played it in, bathed in it and insisted that people tell me the time on The Watch My Sweet Daddy Gave Me until it was tattered and ragged.
My Mother took it off of me one afternoon while I napped. I immediately noticed the missing watch and ran to her, desperate to know what happened to The Watch My Sweet Daddy Gave Me. Through my grief and tears she promised me that she had put it somewhere safe and thatsomeday, when I was big enough, she would give it to me as a keepsake.
I’m sure I had no idea what a keepsake might be, and I’m also fairly certain I was doubtful that I’d ever see it again. But I must have gotten over it, for as many memories of toddler years do, the memory of the beloved watch faded until it was forgotten.
When my 19th birthday came around, I was engaged to be married and my parents gave me a watch that looked very nice with my engagement ring. That watch, by the way, is also in my jewelry box among the treasures there.
Along with that lovely, white gold watch was an old medicine bottle. In that bottle was The Watch My Sweet Daddy Gave Me. Mother told me the story and made good on her promise that I would get it again, someday, when I was big enough. I guess 19 is big enough.
For 34 years, I have treasured that old, play watch. When My Sweet Daddy had a heart attack, I took it out and held it in my hand as I prayed so fervently for him and for a recovery to good health. When my marriage was falling to pieces, I pulled that watch out, clutched it to my heart and prayed for strength, courage and grace. In every crisis of my adult life, My Sweet Daddy has been a rock for me. That watch was more than something I could hold in my hand. It is a remembrance of one of my greatest earthly blessings, My Sweet Daddy.
The true blessing of The Watch My Sweet Daddy Gave Me is more than just a pretend watch that doesn't even tell time. The blessing is My own Sweet Daddy who is a godly man. A Daddy who showed me the way to The Father and who has loved me unconditionally and unabashedly for my entire life. The true blessing and the best gifts he has given me are not things I can hold in my hand, but rather the treasures I have heaped high in my heart.
My Sweet Daddy isn’t a young man any longer. I recently had the amazing opportunity of seeing him in the pulpit at the church he served when I was a teenage girl. He was helping in the funeral service for one of his very dearest friends.
Here is the second gift. As I sat in the congregation of that sanctuary, in that church, in that town, I saw him step up on the platform and up into that pulpit. It felt to me that the earth had moved. For a split second, I saw him not as an aging man, but as a man in his prime. I saw that handsome man who walked with such purpose in his stride. Tall. Strong. Full of energy. The man with such a strong voice and message. The man who had been the center of my world for my entire childhood. When he spoke, that vision of my Sweet Daddy as he had been vanished. I heard a voice that is a bit weaker now. I saw in his gestures hands that are gnarled with arthritis. His hair is not so dark as it once was and he is stooped a bit.
The message of hope in Christ, however, was not diminished. The ability to offer comfort to a grieving family was still there. The very essence of My Sweet Daddy is firm and strong, even if his body is not.
The gift that day? Not a watch. Not even really a gift from My Sweet Daddy. The gift that day was a gift from The Father. A gift that took me back in time to see once more My Sweet Daddy in that pulpit, in that sanctuary, in that church and in that town. Back in a place that means so much to me. Back to a time that meant so much to me. For that gift, I am very thankful.
For My Sweet Daddy, I am extremely thankful. For a life that pointed me to God. For his love. For the remarkable Mother he provided me in his beautiful wife. For his humor. For his intellect. For his easy smile and gentle laugh. For his arms that protected me from many imagined dangers throughout my childhood. For the hands that held mine as he gave me in marriage as a young woman. For the shoulder that I cried on when that marriage failed. For his lovely blessings upon my family as it changed and grew. For the respect and admiration he and my Rocket Man share. For being such an amazing Papa to my children and grandchildren. For teaching me, by his example, how to live a godly and good life. For all these gifts and many more…I am eternally grateful.
I love you, My Sweet Daddy.
Happy Father’s Day!
~Mollianne
No comments:
Post a Comment