Thanks Dad

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My mission lately has been to sort out my house. And I've come across a few things from my dad. The first is my music binder. I remember when I was 10 and began playing piano at church. All the other girls had these 3-ring binders with sheet protectors, and everyone had a fancy WordArt cover page claiming the binder on their own with a simple black and white graphic of some sort on the front. I desperately wanted to be like the "big girls" and part of the in-club. They weren't always kind, and definitely had an air of superiority. I remember for my birthday, when my dad presented me with a box. I opened it to find the coveted sleeve protectors, but to my surprise the package was open and the slippery sleeves fell out of the box. That's because my dad had opened and put a few into the binder, and printed the cover. I remember feeling such pride and gratitude looking at it. Fitting in wasn't always the most easy thing growing up, but something I desperately craved. My cover was printed in COLOR, featured both the instruments I played, and had a scripture verse along with my name is an elegant calligraphy. It blew all the other's binders out of the water. I have no idea if that was my dad's intention, but it was so nice to know I'd have the coveted binder and the fanciest cover of them all :) 

Today I found the second thing that brought me back to my dad- a bookmark with a poem on it. When I was sick, my dad took me to the hospital every Monday. My dad is a frugal person, and seven children on a single income forced him possibly more so into that. Yet, every round of chemo I had some new present. This bookmark was from the hospital gift shop, and the back still reads the date and that it was my 4th round of chemo. 

I'm at the point of my life where I'm more adult than kid aka I talk more with the adults than their children. And I've received a front row seat to my friends' concerns on raising their kids. It is an honor to hear their worries on topics such as religion and education and languages and even what to feed them. It's made me realize further the immense weight of being a parents and the unspeakably hard choices they have to make, not knowing the immediate impact their choices will have. 

My parents' aren't perfect, and some days the weight of their decisions is hard to hold now. But I know they did the best they could with the knowledge they had then. I can't imagine the added stress of parenting several children while one was almost dying, but I'm grateful for the love and support they have shown us.

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