I remember walking down to the pond on a warm summer day. The gravel road made peaceful noises under our feet. You would find the smoothest rock and it would skip perfectly across the water. Your flying rocks were so graceful. I did the best I could. I would get so frustrated seeing my rock just clunk into the water. Sometimes it didn’t even make it over the bank. My tiny arms didn’t compare to yours.

You always seemed like Superman. You could lift me up over your head and make rocks fly. You built me perfect little furniture. I used to sit in your shop and watch you work. You’d let me play with the little drill. My creations were holes in scrap wood, while yours were tables and kid-sized stools.

I used to follow you around, wanting to do whatever you did and say whatever you said. You could sound just like a cow while my bellows sounded more like a sick puppy.

You ate the food I “cooked” and drank my tea. I was your hairdresser and doctor. “Close your eyes, Daddy. This won’t hurt at all,” became a phrase you had to be cautious of; particularly with the smallest one who actually wanted to perform surgery and could be seen wielding kid scissors. You always had to keep one eye open without your little surgeons noticing.

Your love for music poured over to me. You would play Otis Redding on our stereo and I would dance until I fell out. Starry-eyed, I used to watch you pluck at the guitar. I remembering sneaking into your office once and picking up your beloved instrument. My fingers didn’t create the fun tunes yours did.

And you always told the best stories. Bedtime consisted of adventures with Gus and Muffin, our two dogs. They were always getting into some trouble in the woods. The suspense was riveting. Kallie and I would listen with big eyes, waiting to see what would happen next; although little Kallie always tried to help tell the story, much to my aggravation.

You were my hero. Still are. I still look at you starry-eyed sometimes. I still feel like your little girl when I’m around you.

You taught me about love and you taught me about grace. You showed me the love of my heavenly Father by loving me no matter what I did or what I’ve done. Without your discipline, I would have never learned. You taught me to be independent and strong, yet your humility showed me how to be meek, never proud. Your strength in the Lord has carried our family through and will continue to for generations.

Today, on Father’s Day, I am thankful for you, Daddy. It seems these days good, strong Christian daddies are even harder to find than good mamas. Thank you for your faithfulness to teaching your children to walk with God and for wearing pink boas at tea parties and letting us give you “shots” and “medicine.” Thank you for loving us.

In September, you’ll walk me down the aisle. You’ll give me away to another man, but I’ll always be your little girl, starry-eyed and clunking rocks into the pond.

Lifestyles Editor Jessica Boyd can be reached at The Daily LEADER at 601-833-6961 ext. 134, by email at jessica.boyd@dailyleader.com or you can write to her at P.O. Box 551, Brookhaven, MS 39602.