Missionartist because of you.

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Daddy, his big hair, and his first, best and loveliest baby: ME.

Dear Daddy,

Can you believe it? You’ve been a dad to me for twenty one years already!

When you looked at me then, fresh from the womb, in mommy’s arms, did you imagine what I’d be like twenty one years later? Did you have any idea who and what I’d become?

When you taught me how to walk, did you know the paths I’d eventually pursue?

When I fell and hurt myself and cried (and from what I remember I fell a lot back then!), did you imagine the kind of hurts I’d eventually have and have to endure?

When you tutored my for my Maths classes in Grade School, did it ever cross your mind that I would grow to loathe the subject? (LOL)

When you made the decision to enter missionary training with me in tow, did you ever think or hope, in your wildest dreams, that I’d be a missionary too?

When you introduced me to and let me play with the students you discipled and mentored, did you pray I’d have the privilege of discipling others too?

When you heard me sing for the first time, what did you think? Did it occur to you that my love for music would grow to such a passion that throbs in my veins and whose very thought would constrict my heart?

When you saw me starting to doodle on every surface I found, and fashion things from scraps I found around the house, did you imagine how my love of creating and producing would grow to such an extent that it would bear such weight in my decision-making now?

What did you think of me back then? What do you think of me now?

What did you think in all those years in between?

I can’t be sure, but… I am sure of what I know.

That it was you who taught me to dream. Remember? I couldn’t be more than 10 years old back then. You tucked me in for the night by telling me about your dreams… for me. How you wanted me to go to this high school because it was the best. How you thought I’d be the best by doing this, doing that. Being this, and being that.

All the while never pushing.

And eventually, when my own dreams took form, grew and blossomed, you were ever supportive, seeking ways to help me pursue it.

Yes, what a great, great gift you’ve given me, Daddy: you taught me to dream. Loftily.

My confidence now comes from the fact that you believed in me.

You taught me to reach for the stars, and reach high.

More than that, you taught me to reach for and know Him who sits behind the stars, in the thrones of heaven.

Thank you, Daddy.

I am a missionartist, a missionary and an artist, because of you.

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Well, since my birth, three more girls came along. With four of us in his life, who needs boys, right?

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