Dancing on Daddy's Feet

What is it about walking down memory lane that is so sweet? Maybe it is taking the time to really remember those moments we cherish. Maybe it is the photos we have not seen in years that allow the emotions to flood back in and cause our hearts to swell. I'm not sure, but I do know that I love Wednesdays for this very reason.

Today's walk down memory lane for me has no official photo, yet it is so vivid in my memory. I am the middle child in a family of three children. I am the first girl. My dad was my hero most of my life. He still is a man I admire greatly. I have since learned that my heavenly Father is the only one I should hold up to the standard of true hero, but as a child, my daddy was number one.

Some of my favorite memories as a young girl are of time spent sitting on my dad's lap, playing games with him, listening to him talk like Donald Duck so long it made my sides hurt from laughing and watching him with my mom. Above all else, my favorite memory of my dad as a child, will always be walking or dancing on his feet before bed. There did not need to be music, he would either hum his own or our laughter would be enough. My little sister would be there as well, since we shared a room. We would take turns hopping on his "enormous' feet and going for a swirl. How safe I felt standing on his feet, in his arms, while we twirled or stomped up the stairs together. The joy of that moment is precious to me still to this day.

Fast forward 30 years or more, I still adore my daddy and the relationship he has with my mom. I still love spending time with him playing games. I still fall to pieces laughing hearing him talk like Donald Duck. However, there is no more dancing on his feet as I would seriously cause the man pain! So where do I go for this same feeling I once had as a young girl? I run to my heavenly father. I picture me jumping up on His feet, holding his hand, wrapping my other arm around him tightly and twirling with delight. The safety returns. The joy sweeps in. I pray I never get "too old" to dance on my Abba Daddy's feet nor to remember how that makes me feel. As I walk down memory lane today, I am grateful for the Daddy I was given on earth who took time to show me a glimpse of God's love in the way he loved and tenderly cared for his little girl. This dance is for you, Dad.