My Dad. My Father.

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You could always pick him out of a crowd. Due to his height, the salt and peppery hair on his head always stood a good 6 inches above everyone else. He had a broad and sturdy frame, his hands bigger than anyone I’ve met. We joked that his wedding ring could be a bracelet for my scrawny wrist.

His demeanor was quiet yet sure. Intimidating to most, yet a softie to those who knew him well and to say his little girl had him wrapped around her finger? Well, I most certainly did.

To me, my dad was the picture of stability. He had strength of character, he was the sole provider for our family, he knew what he knew and he knew it well. Rarely did he argue because his opponents knew better. He was either right or not backing down. Did I mention there’s a stubborn streak that runs in the family?  KEEP READING HERE

I’m over at Family Life Canada today talking about how losing my earthly Dad made me go face to face with my heavenly Father and all of the things that taught me.  Read more here.

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