A washed pot

For some reason I keep thinking of this story with Father’s Day approaching. Brace yourself for some run-on sentences because that’s just how my brain is working today:

It was winter, a couple years ago when I lived in the big red house with the 3 crazy roommates. One night I made a big pot of soup, and like usual made way too much and what do you know, time passed by and after yet another re-heating the remaining soup did not get put back in the refrigerator so it just sat out on the stove.. and sat… and we all ignored it.. and it got gross… and I kept thinking, “Maybe Val will feel like being super servant-hearted and scrub that thing out for me” and well, THAT didn’t happen (hahaha) so it just kept sitting there…

and I was really busy, or whatever…

then I had this brilliant plan, “Hey, it’s cold outside, I’ll just stick it out the back door, it will freeze into one convenient chunk, making it really easy to deal with!”

so I did

and long story short, the next day it came time when I had to leave for home, I had to get on the road, I think it must have been when we were all going home for Christmas, and the absolute last thing was that stupid moldy soup. But it’s frozen, right? So I’ll just clean it up real quick and go.

Well it wasn’t as frozen as it could have been.. and man, it was gross, and even though I am really OK with stuff like that having cleaned out the camp fridges a bunch of times, I just was not wanting to do it….

SO I did what only someone who drives across Nebraska way too often would do, or maybe what only I would do: I threw it in a plastic bag and put it in the trunk of my car. “I’ll wash it at home,” I said to myself.

And then at home, Dad washed it for me.

He just did. He’s so nice. Or as he puts it, (in convict terms from his prison Bible studies), a “chocolate heart.”


So that story was a lot about me, and only a little about Dad, and it was pretty disgusting and you probably don’t think so highly of me anymore. 

at camp- dad hugging mosquito-lip daughter

But that’s Dad- he puts himself aside to serve those he loves, and doesn’t complain. Dad sends me the best notes and emails, re-attaches things to my car when they come off, and he has always known just when to call.

Dad in Brazil

He is an example to me of someone who can be broken and still say that God is good, and someone who is being changed by the grace of God and shares that grace with others. He is brave and goes on adventures where God leads him around the world- Israel, Brazil and Jamaica. All my life, he has taught me so much about the Bible.

Dad is wise and just hangs in there through so many hard struggles & physical ailments & wow, anyone who can lose that many games of Boggle and still have hope, that’s someone to look up to! 😉 😉

I’m so thankful for you, Dad (my most faithful blog reader I’m pretty sure). God knew you were just the right Dad for me & the boys. Happy Father’s Day.

me and dad Bible quizzing in Jamaica

And no promises, but I’ll try to keep my moldy dishes to myself, I know you’ve got enough to do already what with Jakey’s room and all! 🙂


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