My Daddy Was There

I ran track each of my three years in high school. I wasn’t very good. My best finish ever was 5th place (out of 5 runners). But that’s another story for another day. That is one of only two races I remember from my "career".

My Daddy was the workaholic pastor of a small-town Baptist church. For much of his time there, he was the entire ministerial staff. That made for very long work days. BUT... I think my Daddy came to every one of my track meets.

The other race that I remember was at Salmen High School in Slidell, LA. I had really bad migraine headaches through junior high and high school and beyond. I seldom have them now. This particular race day, I had a relatively mild migraine, but I was determined to run. I ran my race and then went off alone to a grassy area at the end of the stadium. I got down on my hands and knees in the grass and threw up for several minutes. I thought I was alone, but I felt a hand on my back. My Daddy was there. He didn’t say anything. He was just there.

About 20 years later, I was at a church men’s retreat. One of the speakers started his session by saying, "The way you see your Heavenly Father is largely based on how you see your earthly father. How do your kids view God when they see you?"  I didn’t hear another word that man said. I sat pondering that question the rest of his time.

My Daddy was there.