Happy Father’s Day! One year ago, I was asked to speak on father’s day in my home ward during sacrament meeting. During that talk, I discussed three “types” of fathers I’ve had in my life: father figures, my earthly father and my Heavenly Father. When it came time to talk about my dad, I certainly played the “bragging daughter” card. I’d like to share some of what I said during that talk in regards to my dad:
“Now to talk about my dad; I love him! I would like to tell you all a story. My dad is the oldest of 1 brother and 6 sisters. He married my mom and got 3 daughters and even lucked out on having one of the most high maintenance female dogs in existence. In the past year alone, these tender moments have snuck into his life by some of the women in his life: Melina traveled the world in a matter of three weeks, hitting the countries of Egypt, Jordan, Greece, and Turkey. She went to Pennsylvania for a week to work at a hospital and informed us that the hospital was guarded by well armed security and she was escorted to and from her taxi nightly. A couple weeks ago, she announced her plan to use her nursing skills on the people of Peru and will be spending a few weeks there in August. Melina is one of the brightest and most passionate people I know, but in that excitement, she manages to raise dad’s blood pressure in the process. Elise completed two of the most important things my dad has ever asked of his girls; she graduated from college with a degree in childhood education and married a fine young man in the Salt Lake temple. My dad not only survived and paid for the wedding, but also learned to let the daughter that always stuck up for him, supported him, and loved him, grow up and truly leave the nest. I’ve also had my fair share of moments this year. I graduated from high school, moved out on my own and completed my first year of college. Bringing my parents to the “empty nesters” stage was not an easy thing for any of us. While at school, I learned the valuable lesson of never letting your friends borrow your car. If you have questions, you’ll notice in the parking lot that the good ol’ Oldsmobile that served two Clegg girls is no longer in use and a car I don’t deserve was put in her place. In other words, my car Francine has been put to rest at the hands of Lizzie Van de Graff. Through my own choices, damaging consequences were brought on my health along with the diagnosis of Celiac disease. Because of the many trials of my health, grades which were consistent A’s in high school, turned into B’s and C’s as I tried to manage the sudden shifts and turns in my life. Dad, always proud of his little girl for being a 4.0 student, counted to 10 as he continued to take me to the hospital and sit through many disappointing and discouraging doctor’s appointments; one of which required me to be in something in the form of an MRI for three hours straight. I’ve seen my dad cry three times in my life. The second was when he was released as young men’s president. I am 19 years old and he’s been serving the young men of the church for the last 17 years. Essentially, my entire life I’ve been hearing about scout camp, sacrament bread, 14 and 15 year old teachers, those who can put up a tent, and those who can’t stay on the trail. I watch the pride in his eyes when he sees a young deacon finally take his bride to the temple years later, after faithfully serving a mission and striving for his education. I hear the joy in his voice as he speaks of the accomplishments of the young men in this ward and from our ward in Oregon. He loves these boys and still prays for them diligently and looks forward to hearing of their progress. Yes, you can say I’m a bit bias when I say my dad is pretty amazing.”
This is the person my dad is. He lives in a life full of women, but with every twist and turn (that happen so frequently), he’s apart of each one and there to lend advice, offer a prayer and perhaps even write a check ;) Although he lives in a life of estrogen, he loves us all, he gives his all and he works for us all unconditionally. My dad works terribly hard at his job, but he never misses the important things when it comes to his family. He loves each of us in his own way. He loves those he serves. He has made such an impeccable influence on the lives of young men and it’s a joy as a daughter to see these boys grow into men and later approach my dad with tears of gratitude in their eyes. My dad is strong-willed, intelligent and passionate. He looks after those under his stewardship, whether they be his family, his young men, his friends, or his co-workers, that is who my dad is; a man who always goes the second and third mile in order to see those around him happy; a man who gives and gives, yet finds pleasure in seeing the simple things take place. He is strong, He is brave. He is compassionate. He is my dad.
Until I was 9 years old and my family moved to Utah, we lived in Oregon. Sadly, my memories fad more and more come every year, however, one thing is positively certain when I look back on my childhood in Salem: my dad was there. I remember looking forward to Sunday evenings where dad would chase my sisters and I around the backyard playing “touch-you-last”. Without hesitation, I still think my dad gives the best “underdogs” on swings. On rainy afternoon’s, dad would set up the cuddle blanket on the floor and pretend to be “the bear” as Elise and I would wrestle with him. He taught me how to hold a bat and play baseball. He taught me how to ride my Barbie bike. Every summer, we would go daddy-daughter back packing with some friends. During those many trips, he would share stories and offer advice. All my life, dad has had an office at home. In Oregon, dad’s walls were covered with my dinky little drawings I considered masterpieces. I remember Melina teaching me the primary song “I’m so glad when daddy comes home” and singing it for him when he’d get home from work trips. I remember being put to bed and dad laying next to me as he sang primary songs and told stories. I remember running out the door to meet him at the car just so I could tell him what I learned at school. Growing up, my dad was my hero. He was so loved among the youth in our ward and I thought it was so neat that the man so many envied was my dad. He built me by far the best play house in the backyard. He would let me ride in the back of the trailer with Elise as we drove home from the Heder’s house. He sometimes even let me stay up late to watch Seinfeld with him. Yes, my dad was my hero.
After we moved to Oregon and our family started to consist more of teenagers rather than little kids, dynamics changed, but lessons and memories continued to be made. Dad has never stopped teaching me. When we moved to Utah, dad encouraged me to make new friends, thus teaching me how to branch out, be confident, be kind and be a good friend to others. When I was 12, he came to my Young Women programs and at 13, he watched as I accepted my personal progress medallion, showing me that church was and is important to him and living righteously was something I needed to constantly strive for. At 15, he let me have my first job and with that came more lessons on how to work, how to manage my time and how to appreciate the things I earn. At 16, he “let me use” his car and taught me the proper ways of driving. At 18, he watched me graduate high school and with that teach me that with hard work comes rewards and a diploma is one such blessing. Dad has always instilled in us girls the importance of education and for that I am grateful. I’m grateful that he loves and cares about us enough to overlook what might be a current struggle and see the overall big picture. Now being 20 years old, he’s still teaching me. As we speak, he’s teaching me that even when “your plan” isn’t working out and something you’ve worked so hard for doesn’t happen, it’s okay to be sad for a few days, but it’s even better (and more important) to pick yourself up, brush the dirt off your knees, and try again. He’s teaching me it’s okay to make mistakes, even when you’re an adult. He’s teaching me it’s okay to not be perfect, even when you’re trying so hard to be. He’s teaching me to always rely on the Savior not only when discouragement strikes, but also when you’re most happy. He’s teaching me the value of an education. He’s teaching me the value of a dollar and the value of work. Even simpler, I’ve found dad’s quizzes on music and Seinfeld have proven handy for me when it comes to those of the opposite sex. His advice has even helped with my training on running. I’ve always been a mommy’s girl. That role is not going anywhere anytime soon. Still, the older I get, I’m starting to see just how many of those lessons dad teaches me are coming up in my life. And I’m thankful for that. I’m thankful that he teaches them to me. I’m thankful he never gives up on me. I’m thankful he’s my dad plain and simple.
It has been my dream to go to BYU since I was a little girl. I was so worried about NOT getting in, that I had nearly convinced myself it wouldn't happen just to ease the disappointment. When the letter finally arrived and my dream of being accepted came true, I burst into tears and wanted to show dad immediately
A few weeks ago, I got a rare glimpse into a part of my dad’s life I rarely, if ever, see. However, this 2 hour glimpse brought on an entirely different perspective of my dad. When dad was promoted after moving to Utah, it forced him to work harder, as more responsibilities were pressed upon him. Right around his birthday (June 7th), he celebrated his 25th anniversary of working for Eli Lilly and Company. His boss and many of his colleagues flew out from every part of the nation to Salt Lake City to throw my dad a surprise party in which they invited my mom and sisters too. Mom has gone on countless work trips with these people so she knew them well. However, for Melina and I, meeting these people would be an entirely new experience. As we walked in the door, the men and women in the room immediately got up and asked if they could hug us. Why? As we were hugged, they explained how our dad talks about each of us at nearly every work function and they felt like they knew us because of how much our dad talked of his daughters. They told us how immensely proud he was of us. In addition, how proud they were of him and what an honor it was to work alongside him. Soon, dad and his boss would come into the room of the restaurant, where his co-workers were waiting for him; people whom he had spend a lifetime working with. Throughout the party, each talked with great fondness of my dad and the man he is and contributions he’s given to the company. Some said he was a role model, others called him a mentor, but all called him there friend. I had no idea when I originally walked into the room that these people I just met would describe my dad the same way I would. As I left the restaurant with my mom and sister, I was overcome with emotion and I find even now as I’m writing this and tears falling down my cheeks, I clearly still am. I’ve taken my dad’s job for granted too many times. I never quite understood what it took and who he was and the difference he was making. Elise wrote in her blog that dad would never admit the sacrifices he’s made on behalf of the family. It’s true. He never will. But he has. He spends so much time working in that office and going to meetings all in behalf of his friends, his coworkers, and for the support of his family. Dad, we are so blessed because of it. I know I don’t always appreciate it as much as I should, but I’m trying to now, especially after meeting all those spectacular people and seeing the footprints you’ve left in so many people’s lives, more than even I realized.
Dad, I love you. Thank you for loving me back. Even despite my blatant inability to do well in a stats class. Even despite my more darker (more dramatic) moods. Even despite the many phone calls you receive to hear me crying on the other end because of some silly something. Thank you for listening anyways. Thank you for coming to see me each month this year with mom. I don’t know if you’ll quite realize how much I literally needed those and how much better I felt every time you came. Thank you for visiting me at my apartment that random Thursday night after your meeting. I didn’t tell you then, but I was having a rough night and having you there to give me a hug made me feel better. Thank you for believing in me when I don’t think I can stay at BYU. Thank you for knowing so much about what’s going on with my health, even when I don’t. Thank you for understanding when I get upset over my past mistakes that seem to haunt me now. Thank you for seeing so much potential in me even and probably most especially when I can't see it in myself. Thank you for spending a lifetime to achieve the life you have now. I owe it all to you. I’m so proud of you. I’m so thankful you are my dad and you’ve instilled so much in me. You are my hero. I know I can come to you. I know I can come home. I know that just like you promised to not let go of my Barbie bike, you won’t let go of me. You have faith in me and for that, I thank you. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for letting me go, but staying close enough that I can still turn around and know you’re there. I love you, daddy! No matter how old I get or where I go, I’ll still forever be your baby girl!
Loves!
