When I was 17, my best friend refused to give me a ride from our job (12 miles away) because she had other plans. I didn’t beg, I didn’t yell. I told her to go. “My Dad will come for me.”
In fact, years later, while on a trek to see Mom and Dad in Florida, my oldest brother and I ran into car trouble. But we weren’t concerned. Kidding him, I said, “Well, I’m calling my Dad. What are you going to do?” I went on to tease, “If you stay close you might be able to hitch a ride, since you’re with me.”
To make my point clearly, we called Daddy around 7 p.m. He asked if we were okay and if we could sit it out until morning? Of course we could. Besides, there was a very well-lit all-night restaurant across the highway.
“Okay, just stay there until we come for you.”
It was a little after 8 a.m. when we saw his Cadillac coming down the road. We were expecting that. He’s Daddy; that’s just what he does. Alongside of him was his constant companion, Mom, who would ride in that front seat until her death some years ago.
The point I’d like to make is this: there are three certainties in my life:
1) The sun will rise;
2) The sun will set; and
3) My Dad will always come for me.
What a mighty, good man, indeed.
