My Dad

I love this photo. When Dad talks he's always doing this with his hand. It's his trademark. I can't even BEGIN to express the level of depth that this man has. Or the vastness of his teachings to me. He's the kind of person you want to get to know because of that depth.
One story. When I was in High School I came home late...a lot. It was my rebellion (I was a pretty good teenager). Mom or Dad would wait up for me until I got home, or if they went to bed I had to go and wake them up so they knew I was safe and sound at home. One night, I came home late...surprise! There was Dad, waiting up for me. I can still him, in our hallway upstairs in Flagstaff, in his blue robe. Dad is a natural teacher. He asked me about my night and why I was late- a good hour late. I had no excuse, like always. Just that I was the ONLY one who had to come home at midnight. wah wah. He was starting to get a little frustrated by my lack of caring. We argued a little about my curfew, then asked "so Jen, if you were me, how would you feel?" I had honestly never thought of how I would feel. Back then I had no cell phone, no way for them to get a hold of me. I can tell you that just by him asking me that simple question made me first of all, feel more like an adult because he was asking ME. And secondly it made me actually think about how I would feel. Not good.
This is a simple thing. But that conversation has obviously stayed with me over that last almost 20 years.
Now, if I can only remember to ask my teenagers the same thing before strangling them.