Mom? I think you’re probably pretty jealous of me and Elle.
Because Daddy doesn’t shoo you when he gets home. He only shoos me and Elle.
One of our steadfast rituals when Frank gets home from work is that he must, no matter what, lift the girls high into the air. On the sound of the garage door opening, Bea runs down the hall yelling, Shoo me first! Shoo me first!! Elle is fast on her heals, squealing and insisting that her turn isn’t far behind.
There is something incomparable to daddy’s throws into the air. The feeling that you know you’ll be caught; that you aren’t really too far out of the reach of his hands.
Perhaps Frank can’t actually shoo me into the air, but of course there are so many ways he supports and lifts me up – by encouraging my gifts, but listening to my processing, by working hard so that I get to experience these fast, little years with the girls.
And, what Bea doesn’t see is that I shoo Frank, too. It makes me think about our perception of God – how so many people struggle (and rightfully so) with the image of God the Father. That some human fathers have so failed to shoo their children that the idea of a benevolent Creator is too much to comprehend.
As I watch Frank shoo our girls, both physically as well as emotionally and spiritually, I am grateful that their image of a Father-God will be one of lifting them high, of catching them, of not letting go.
Do you remember being lifted by your dad? What is your view of a Father-God?
Linked with Kate Motaung’s Five Minute Friday, a time to write without editing. Today’s prompt is “lift.”
6 thoughts on “Shoo Me, Daddy!”
What a lovely post, Annie!
When I was still well enough some of the dogs would ride on my shoulders. Easy enough with a Heeler, a bit more challenging with a barrel-shaped Pit, and downright bizarre with a German Shepherd.
#2 at FMF this week.
Thanks, Andrew! I should have added that Daisy waits her turn to be “shooed” as well. 😉 Can’t forget our first baby!
What a beautiful picture of lifting. I love it, Shoo-ing . . . I love it. My dad used to throw us in the air whenI was a girl. There was something fearfully exhilarating about that little bout of flying. I’m grateful I had a loving earthly father. He worked hard to take care of us and to love us well. He had his own father who never showed up in his life.
When I was introduced to my heavenly Father, taking the step to view him as a Father wasn’t as hard as it is for some. I still have control issues with Him about some things . . . but that’s another story for another time. 🙂
LOVED this post, friend.
Thanks, Jeanne! The more stories I hear, the more and more grateful I am for my dad – and the dad Frank is to our girls. What a gift, isn’t it?
So precious! When I was 16, worked at a camp for underprivileged children many of whom had been abandoned by their fathers. I was amazed at how this skewed their image of God the Father. We have many battles to face in families we minister to here in Nepal and pray God will reveal Himself as the loving Father He is. Thankful for the loving daddy I had and the one that my babies now have. God bless.
One of our goals as a family is to get to a place where we can open our home and relationships to kids who may not have that same dad-figure. It’s sad to see, and I pray that we can give to others what we’ve so generously been given. Thanks for stopping by!
&PS- Amazing that you’re in Nepal! I spent 3 months after college in Kathmandu and loved it so much…