i’m told on a regular basis to not take my family for granted.  i’m trying not to.  i’m determined to note all the outrageously spoiling aspects of where i come from and who i live with and not let those moments pass me by as i think, this is how it always is, right?

last night i fell asleep to the sound of my daddy strumming his guitar and singing praise to our God.  mighty is our God, mighty is our King… he ended a stressful and difficult day by worshiping and praying.  that’s who he is — that’s what i think of when i think of my dad.

for me that’s normal.  it’s not strange or weird or mind-boggling.  that’s how it’s always been.  but i never want to be blind to the preciousness of having a father who adores God above all else and seeks Him with all his being.

most people say they have the best father.  i think i really do.