LOUISE: A Father’s Love

Louise, her brother and her fatherMy father was my hero. One of my
earliest memories is of Daddy rocking me in a straight back chair, feeling the
back and forth, thumping motion while he sang “Bringing In The Sheaves.” With
few photos of my early childhood, I have little to trigger long ago memories,
but many are etched on my heart forever.

I was next to the youngest of
six children, my only sister being the oldest and ten years my senior. All too
soon she was grown and gone and I grew up on a farm with four brothers—a guy’s
world—but a delight to my daddy’s heart. My husband, Carl, used to tell me he
knew the minute he met Glenn Tucker that I was a “Daddy’s Girl.”

As a child, I remember riding on
the horse’s broad back while Daddy guided a handheld plow behind. I can still
feel the side-to-side motion of Ole Honey clip-clopping down those furrows and
hearing my daddy sing a beloved hymn as he plowed. Daddy loved music and led
the singing in our little country church. When I was in grade school I took
piano lessons and practiced in the school cafeteria until Daddy bought an old
pink, upright piano where I learned to plunk out the melody of old-time gospel
songs while Mama and Daddy sang along.

Daddy taught me to tie my shoes,
spit watermelon seeds, and drive an ancient truck in the hay field and on
dusty, country roads long before I was old enough for a driver’s license.
Throughout my life, he supported and encouraged me, assuring me I could do
anything I set my mind to if I was willing to work at it. When

I went away to college, I often
went home on weekends but there were times when I had to stay at school several
weeks in a row due to my work schedule. I’ll never forget the day I looked out
the window and saw Daddy get out of his pickup and walk up the sidewalk toward
my dorm. I ran out to meet him, wondering what was wrong. He grabbed me in a
hug and said nothing was wrong except I had stayed away too long.

My father was a picture of
unreserved love. Little wonder that I would choose a man with the same stellar
traits and tender love to be my lifelong mate. Daddy was thrilled with my
choice and loved Carl like a son. The Christmas my husband was overseas was one
of the hardest ever, having already been separated from Carl for nine months.
With my siblings and their families celebrating in my parents’ living room, I
became so sad that I closed myself in a dark bedroom, collapsed on the bed and
cried. Soon, Daddy slipped into the room, gathered me in his arms and cried
along with me. No words. Just tears. What a gift!

Carl was not only my devoted,
adoring husband through the years, but like my daddy, he was also the best
father a kid could ever have, loving our children unconditionally. And now, my
son, Aaron, carries on the heritage of his dad and grandfather, loving my
precious grandchildren with his whole heart and soul.

So on this month of remembering dads, may we pay
special tribute to those extraordinary fathers, whether here on earth or in
Heaven, who poured their hearts and lives into their children, giving them
wings to fly on their own and protecting those who could never leave the nest.
What a marvelous inheritance!

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