Mornings with Daddy

I have been on the road a lot over the past few weeks and one of my favorite parts of my drive to Albany is the phone call I have come to expect from my dad. He calls to help me pass the time and to pray with me as I make the hour and half drive. We talk about the weather, the slow cars in front of us, baseball and softball games played by my siblings, my job and his, and politics. The conversations are serious at times and funny at others.

At the end, I know he is going to ask, “Buddy, is there anything you want me to pray about specifically?”  And I always share my worries with him. Then as my eyes stay on the road, Dad begins to pray and commit our day to Him. I’ve gotten better, but I used to hate it when Dad prayed with me. It makes me cry. Prayer is my dad’s way of communicating how much he loves me and cares about me. Those words are so very special to me.

I’m going to miss that part of the past month or so; the time that has been just mine and his. It may need to become a part of “normal” life…