When I pulled up in front of our campsite I snapped at my sister, pouted, and felt sorry for myself. I know I'm not painting a pretty picture here at all, but in the interest of honesty, I want to tell the whole truth.
My dad was quietly observing my bad day and my bad attitude (Okay - my temper tantrum) from the get go. He walked up and announced that he wanted to go get coffee and did I want to come?
If anyone was less deserving of a coffee date with Dad at that moment, it was me. Seriously. I'm not being modest here. I was behaving like an absolute spoiled brat.
He actually wanted to hear my whole list of anything and everything I had to be thankful for - from the 3am wake up call to falling back asleep and being late for work. Wrestling an old lock after I'd already realized I was extremely late, fighting traffic, a hectic day at the office. He really wanted to hear it.
He pulls me into random hugs to tell me that he loves me.
He skateboarded alongside of me for two miles because I wanted to go running and it was already dark out.
He gave up an entire surf session to get me standing up on a wave.
Besides the part where he works and sacrifices to keep us all fed and clothed, he really cares about the little things - the ones that make all the difference in the world.
"Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!" - Matthew 7
I've been overwhelmed lately thinking about how good my earthly daddy is. As good as I've got already, the scope of my Heavenly Father's goodness - well, it's incomprehensible.