I Love You, Dad

I Love You, Dad
Betzann Carroll

I took one last look at my husband’s picture as I prepared to take our daughter Helen to the doctor for her physical. She was going to be a part of The Salvation Army Camp Staff. It was actually the note beneath the picture, which caught my attention. It was a note in Helen’s handwriting. It was a note she wrote to her dad two years ago. It simply said, “I love you, Dad. You are the best dad in the world. P. S. I am trying to be good.”

She wrote the note after a very difficult summer. Now, at the age of seventeen she was about to graduate high school, fifth in her class. She had overcome so much in her seventeen years: heart defects, lung disease, dyslexia, and other obstacles. Learning sometimes took Helen longer, but when she knew it, she knew it.
And she knew her dad loved her.

My dad died when I was six years old. He loved me and I knew it. He taught me a valuable lesson. This one I tried to remember when I was dealing with my children.

Once more my dad said, “Watch me.” He took both ribbons from the waist of my dress to the front (still attached) in his hands. First, he tied a knot and then he slowly tied a bow. He explained every step and said, “When you tie your shoe you do it the very same way. Now, you try it.” For weeks I had been trying to tie my shoe. I just could not do it. I could tie a knot, but… Over and over he would show me with patience and interest. I am not sure whether I wanted to learn because I really wanted to tie my shoe, or because I wanted to make my dad proud. It was time for school and my mother rushed me out the door. All day long I would reach down for the ribbons on my dress. I would tie the knot and then try to tie the bow. I just could not do it. The bell rang and I ran out of the door with the ribbons in my hands. I slipped and fell. When I stood up I realized that both ribbons were still in my hands. However, they were no longer attached to my dress. I ripped the ribbons right off when I fell. I walked slowly, still fumbling with the ribbons. Tie a knot, and then tie the bow. Over and over I tried and then I conquered the task. I ran home to tell my dad the news.

When I reached the house my parents were sitting on the porch waiting for me. My dad was home from work for a few weeks, recovering from a heart attack. “I can do it. I can do it, Dad.

“I can tie a bow,” I yelled as I ran down the street. When I held the ribbons up in the air, it was not the bow my mother was focused on.

“You ripped your dress! Look what you have done to your new dress,” my mother scolded. “Give me those ribbons.”

What a conflict. It was true that my new dress was ruined. At least my mother thought so. I could never figure out why a dress needed ribbons in the back anyway.
It really didn’t make a difference. My accomplishment seemed unimportant now. It was also true that I fell and never meant to rip the dress. I simply wanted to make dad proud of me. I had succeeded in making my mother angry.


Then Dad reached down and untied his shoe. He said, “Show me how you did it.” I carefully tied the knot. Then nervously I began to tie the bow. And, I did it. He was proud of me. His huge hands then picked me up and held me tight. Even my mom seemed to smile. He said, “Now that you have learned to tie a bow, you will have to learn to sew and fix your dress.” We all laughed. He knew I wanted to please him, even if I did ruin my dress in the process.

Helen, your dad understood your difficulties at fifteen and he understands them at seventeen. He knows you are trying. He is thrilled with your desire to overcome and do the best you can at everything you attempt. Most of all he knows you love him and He loves you.

God knows the desires of our hearts. He knows whether we love him above all else. He understands when we attempt to please him. And he understands when every now and then we don’t always succeed at what we attempt. He knows when we have tried our best and our best was not what we had hoped for. He simply allows us to start again. He is the God of new beginnings. He knows our intentions, desires, and attitudes. He knows when we are sincere. He loves us!