Oh, how I miss my daddy. He was a passionate preacher, caring husband and a loving dad with a very dry sense of humor! His mischievous smile and conniving laugh...I’m hearing and seeing like it was yesterday. To me, he "hung the moon"! Looking at his picture I remember holding his hand through life. As a little girl, I looked up to him, way up to him, when he held my hand walking up the steps into the church. Then, pretending I could fly, I would leap in mid air off the picnic table, our jungle gym, in our backyard knowing his strong hands would catch me each time. As I grew up, bigger choices and challenges were before me. But, that was okay because it seemed his hands got bigger, also. Nothing was ever too big or challenging for my daddy. He would always have an answer and hands that held on to me no matter how old I was. I was still his little girl. When he held my hand I knew everything was going to be okay. He taught me to leap in mid air, to trust God. My daddy, a source of strength with gentle hands held on to the Lord while holding my hand! My last words to daddy, a constant in my life, were from the 23rd Psalm. The Lord is my Shepherd…He leads...He restores…He guides…He comforts.
For His name’s sake…”