Look Dad, Im still here!

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100 Missing Dad Quotes

Footage which shows a young Phoenix and his father at a lake in Panama was actually be actors swimming in Hawaii with the film doctored to look old. He then proceeded to grow a beard, put on weight and stun TV viewers with a shambolic interview with US host David Letterman where he gave monosyllabic answers and chewed gum. Joaquin was also mocked for his dismal attempts to launch his music career and was even filmed falling off the stage during his one of his first gigs.

You should always be your first priority. You should never have to endure something for the sake of others. I am here to tell you that you are more than that and that cutting out a family member could actually be the best thing for you, even if it's incredibly difficult. I did it and I'm still here. It made me realize who my real family was, and there will never be enough thank you's in the world to show my mother just how much I appreciate her.

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I think the only real one is to slow ourselves down. Be present. Be here. Say no to dumb stuff. Trim all the life fat. An exhausted, overextended life is not the most sacrificial one. Hit the brakes.

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Order more pizza delivery. Play more cards on the living room floor. Declare spontaneous naptime for everyone on Sunday.

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Make up silly dances. Ask serious questions. Have more sleepovers. Declare ridiculous holidays. Jump in more lakes. Make breakfast for dinner. Have staring contests. Ride bikes. Be fully present in every small and fleeting moment with those babies, because they are gone, gone gone in a whisper. I grew up in the church. I met God at the altar, in baptism, in the hymnal, in the casseroles at the potluck in the Fellowship Hall.

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The years I felt angry and restless and deeply skeptical. God knew music was the way we would have to find each other again. My mom must have known too, because I had a standing invitation to use her piano any time. Unfortunately for her, this was usually at about 2 AM when I would try to quietly turn the key in her door, reeking of cigarettes and martinis from my shift tending bar and my own post shift enjoyment , I would pull these little wadded up cocktail napkins out of my pockets that I had scribbled on, at work.

These songs of longing and lament were barely recognizable fragments of my faith that looked very different from the church girl of my youth. I will always point people to the church. I believe deeply in beautiful, messy, flawed and faithful community.

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I believe deeply in the bread we break and the cup we pass, and the prayers and creeds we proclaim, rooted in history and truth. I believe in the safety and support we offer one another, there. But I will also always point people to Jesus, who can often be found, outside the city gates, as he has always been found. Sitting and walking and eating and listening to people who do not feel they belong in those pews, and maybe who have been told as much.

The invitation to be loved by God is often times just saying an exasperated yes to him. Love can be annoying, like that. It is saying yes in a prayer, in a song, in a whisper on a barstool. Yes in a hotel room or on a park bench or in a Bible study or in rehab.

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Yes from the corner office. Yes from the gutter. David was right, and David should know. When I was in high school, I had a teacher who asked us to write a letter to our future selves in ten years. Who would we be? Where would we live? What would be most important to us and how would we find space in our lives for the things we claimed to cherish and value? Then, he mailed those letters to us, ten years later. There was significant eye rolling, as you might imagine, when I opened mine.

All the hard won wisdom of a sheltered, privileged 18 year old white girl, dreaming her dreams. What would I want that girl to know? How could I help her sidestep some mistakes or see the world or her faith with different eyes? Richard Rohr, beloved priest and contemplative, talks about faith as containers. What we know of and how we experience God in the early days of our faith, fit into certain, smallish containers. But as we grow, so does our understanding of who God is. Suddenly those old containers can no longer hold what they once held, and is now spilling over the sides. We need a larger vessel.

Family should be first. The absolute best moments in my life have been shared with my family. They are a gift and we have to treat them as such. Without my family, I would be nowhere. And the loss of my father has only taught me to love them harder and cherish them more. To have the support of my family through life and through the loss of my father, has been truly the greatest blessing. Through any and every thing, family is there. Take advantage of the time given with them and love with no regrets. You have to live your life to the fullest. We never know when it may be our last day or someone else's.

Use each day to its fullest capacity. Whether that be reading one more chapter, calling your mom even though she always talks your ear off , reaching out to an old friend or running one more mile. Take life for what it's worth. More time is virtually the only thing we can't buy these days. Treasure that and maximize it. Learn to prioritize. We all get busy with the logistics of being human, but let's get busier about simply enjoying life.

Parents are people too. When I was 8, my dad was Snuggler Extraordinaire, the man to talk to when I wanted yet another kitten, and among many other things a professional goof ball. Sometimes we don't realize that our parents are people too. They aren't perfect, they have struggles, they have dreams and aspirations just like us. As I've gotten older, I have learned more about who my dad actually was. He wasn't just a dad.

I'm Still Here

He was his own person too. So when I look back on the things he did for me and the good memories I have of him, I gain a greater appreciation for all those little things. They were dance parties to Bare Naked Ladies in the morning when he should've been preparing a report for work. It was letters to his mom about how he wanted to be a good father.

Or notes left for his silly little girl when he was already late getting to the airport for a business trip. All these struggles and sacrifices were made by a man to bring a smile to an 8-year-old's face despite all the responsibilities and obligations outside the home. That's what made my dad who he truly was, a person who through all of his own personal struggles, wanted to be a good father.

The value of handwritten letters or notes is priceless. My dad was away for business and personal reasons a lot. But when he left, there would be a note waiting for me. These little letters, cards and notes handwritten by my dad are my greatest treasure. Not only was it important to him to let me know he loved me, but it was important for me to have memory of that. Text messages get deleted, phone calls go forgotten. But the collection of reminders from my dad that he loved me, are something I can and do read anytime, any day. Through them, his love is not forgotten.

Look Dad, Im still here! Look Dad, Im still here!
Look Dad, Im still here! Look Dad, Im still here!
Look Dad, Im still here! Look Dad, Im still here!
Look Dad, Im still here! Look Dad, Im still here!
Look Dad, Im still here! Look Dad, Im still here!

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