Growing up, our dad had four special ladies in his life. Mom, his childhood sweetheart and wife of 67 years. And his three daughters…
Linda, his first born, our oldest sister. The one who made him a dad. The one who first showed him the love of a father for his child. The one whom he cherished and adored.
Leslie, his baby, our youngest sister. The light of his life who could do no wrong. And even if she could, it wouldn’t matter at all, because she was daddy’s little girl and the apple of his eye.
And Me, the proverbial middle daughter, the Jan of our Brady Bunch. The one Dad could never quite figure out, but quite liked it that way, and loved me all the more because of it. (A very middle-daughter perspective, I know, as we middles always feel misunderstood.)
Dad was a simple, soft spoken man. A man of very few words. Yet, somehow … and I honestly don’t know how … he made each of his daughters feel as though surely we must be his favorite.
In fact, we didn’t just feel it—we knew it without a doubt. And I think that made our dad the wisest man upon the face of the earth.
Fathers have an extraordinary ability to influence the lives of their daughters. We never doubted dad’s love for us—it was consistent, it was unconditional, it was Dad.
“A good man leaves an inheritance to his children’s children”, the wisdom of King Solomon reveals. There is no greater inheritance left to a daughter than the unconditional love of her father.
And that is the legacy our dad left for us that we get to pass on to our daughters. The imperfect love of a father on earth–a mere reflection of the perfect love of God, the Father of us all.