The Time We Ate Donuts.

When I was young, Dad and I would go out driving together, often in the middle of the night.  As an only child who was often homeschooled, I had plenty of time for such adventures and I always loved spending time with him.  One such night, I think I was about nine years old, we headed out from our home in the country in search of manna from heaven, some people call it Krispy Kreme.  So we hopped in my Dad's 1986 red step-side Chevy pickup, affectionately known as "Little Red", and meandered our way into the city.

As an adult, looking back on this adventure, it probably wasn't too late at night... maybe nine or ten.  It didn't really matter in those days though, because that particular Krispy Kreme was 24 hours "Hot & Now"... may it rest in peace.  Our excursions were where my Dad taught me many of the lessons and much of the wisdom that I attribute to him here along these pages.  Mostly he would talk, and I would listen.  This story, however, is mostly just funny.

Arriving at the donut shop, I watched the donuts being made on the giant conveyor belt as the dough would rise and then be dropped into the fryer to then put on its jacket of sugary sweet glaze.  If you have never had a Krispy Kreme donut, I highly recommend it.  As many folks do, arriving at our journey's end our eyes may have gotten a little bigger than our insulin and we decided to order a dozen of those warm little circles and a couple of pints of milk.

The first one is always heavenly.  It melts in your mouth and offers an almost immediate sugar rush.  And, the second one is just as good.  So, before we knew it, we had eaten nine between us -- five for my Dad and four for me.  We were absolutely miserable.  I remember curling up on that cloth bench seat next to my Dad as he drove thinking that I would surely lose my stomach before we reached home.

Even now, years later, we laugh over this story.  We always reminisce about how much fun we had together laughing and eating donuts... even though it made us sick.  To this day, I don't think I have ever again tried to eat more than two of those things, and I usually stick to one.

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Today is the day my dad starts chemo.  That, too, may make him sick.  If it does, I hope that he remembers our story, maybe he can imagine that the real cause of his ailment is simply too many donuts with his little girl.  Maybe remembering the beautiful times can help him through the difficult ones.

Just because we may be in pain now, doesn't mean our story isn't a good one.

An Introduction.

My father always told me, "God loves you no matter what, but if you keep failing the test you are just gonna have to keep retaking it.  So, you can either buckle down so you can move on to the next grade or stay in this one.  Either way, God loves you just the same.  But, I don't wanna stay in third grade forever, so I figure I gotta learn my lessons quick so I can move on."

I suppose this is what this blog is to be about... lessons.  Lessons handed down to me by my father who has always been wiser than he's known, kinder than he realized and more generous than folks imagine. This collection of stories is my gift to my father, so that he might know how precious he is to all who know him, and that his legacy endures.  These words are so that my dad might be able to see himself through my eyes.

He taught me how to drive tractors, ride motorcycles and shoot guns... he also taught me how to be gentle, gracious and kind... to be generous beyond measure.  It's true I don't always apply his wisdom in ways that he would like, but the lessons have been learned all the same.  I am unsure of who may come across these pages, who will read them or who will dismiss them, but I write them all the same.  I promise to be more honest here than I am perhaps anywhere else.  There will be many stories over the next days or months that not two people know of as yet.  I may change the names in some and leave them in others.  Some will be of my childhood and others of being an adult.  Some may be good and others bad, but all are of love.  Some will be only about my dad and others only about myself, but all are because he has loved me well.  If you decide that some are boastful, read them only as testimonies of my father's love for his daughter, because almost everything good about me is because of him.