The other day I turned on some Christmas music by Amy Grant and a flood of emotions welled up inside of me as I reflected on the memories associated with the music. A felt tears came to my eyes as I blankly stared at my computer screen... at work. I tossed a glance from left to right and grabbed a box of tissues to have on hand before anyone noticed. They were going to be necessary to finish the song. I've always loved Amy Grant's music and felt obliged listen to at least a few songs and forget about the present.
I remember waking up on a Saturday morning to the sound of grinding coffee beans and Christmas music by Amy Grant. As I would tiptoe up the stairs, the early morning sun would be streaming in the windows with a slight warmth that seemed to contradict the frost that covered the ground outside. My dad would always greet me with a warm bear hug that reminded me of how happy he was that I am his daughter. I always felt a sense of peace, contentment, and joy during those mornings. Time seemed to rest and stand still for once: everyone else was sleeping, his Bible was open, and he was there to enjoy the moment and revel in the beautiful morning that God created. Everything trivial disappeared and we talked about the joyful and meaningful things that supersede the problems of everyday life. Those mornings always reminded me of how blessed I am to be given such a wonderful earthly father by my heavenly father.
I love my dad.
