This morning you guys crawled into bed to wish me Happy Father’s Day, and pelted me with the cards you’d found for me.  Easily the best part of my day:  Listening to you guys laugh as I read your cards.  I know that I’m not a great Dad, but I’m certain that I love being a Dad more than anyone I know.  Even before I met your Mom, I dreamed of being a Dad.  I didn’t realize how great it would be, nor how it would change the way I look at the world.  Thanks to you three, I see everything differently.  Because of you . . .

I delight that I can act as foolish as I want–in public–when I’m with you, just so long as it makes you laugh.  My ears have become tuned to the pitch and intensity of kids’ voices [even when I can't understand the words, I know if I should intervene].  I love the smell of your room, boys–that little boy stink that always lingers [soon that won't be such a delight].  I miss the smell of baby-breath.  I can’t describe it, but all babies have the same smell.  I actually miss the smell of Enfamil–spit up and dried on my shirt.  Everywhere I go, I notice babies.  While I love to see them, it hurts a little that you’ve gotten so big, and that we’ll not have another baby in our lives until you have your own.  Because of you, I noticed this baby the other night at dinner.  I kept staring at the cute dimples she had on her elbows when she’d straighten her arms.  I love to hear little babies cry that warbly cry–I miss that sound.  Thanks to you, I can watch cartoons again–most have gotten much dumber since I was a kid, but a few are incredibly funny!  Bella–because of you, I have a renewed love of nose-freckles. I love, Carson, that I’m your confidant.  I hope that you’ll always remember the rules of “Free Talk,” and keep including me in your private life.  Because of you, Harrison, I’ve thought thoughts and pondered questions that never would have perplexed my mind.  H–I can say with absolute certainty:  I’ve never met anyone like you!!!!  I love how different you are, and I’m doing my best to develop your different-ness, even though I often don’t understand.  I know without doubt, Harrison, that many lives will be blessed because of you–and we who are closest to you will be the most overwhelmed, grateful ones.  Because of you, kids, I dream of seeing the world.  I’ve always wanted to travel [a little], but now I can envision the exotic places we’ll discover together.  I’ve always been a “morning person,” but you kids have made it all the greater.  When you stumble out of your rooms in the morning, hair looking like it’s trying to run away from you, and you crawl into my lap as I work . . . that’s the best.  You’re why I’m up early, working.

As much as I love you guys, and how you’ve changed me so much, I owe it all to the grace of God–Who made your Mom.

Kids:  I don’t take for granted that God has put you in my care.  Because of you, everything is different for me.  Finally, and most of all:  Because of you, kids, I want to be a better man.

Happy Father’s Day, kids.  Today is yours.

Love,

Dad

P.S.  “Today was a great day to be your Daddy.”

After only a few months of dating his first girlfriend, Bill learned that she’d be moving away to Georgia.

Sheree had interviewed and accepted a job as a Youth Minister in Canton, Georgia.  In three weeks, she’d be gone.  Sheree’s heart broke–she knew that she’d one day marry Bill, but she knew that she needed the redemptive experience of the new job.  She hoped that Bill would intervene, confess his undying devotion, and ask her to stay.

He didn’t.

The thought frequently crossed Bill’s mind.  He knew that he wanted Sheree to stay.  He knew that he deeply cared for her.  Yet Bill wouldn’t ask her to reconsider her move.  Ever unsure, Bill still didn’t see a permanent future with Sheree.  He didn’t ask her to stay, he reasoned, to be fair to her.  He thought it unfair to Sheree–asking her to stay for him, but not sure of his intentions with her.   So as much as it pained him, Bill endured Sheree’s final three weeks in Arkansas, being as supportive for her as he could.  Yet he never suggested that she reconsider.

In only a few short months, Sheree had become the primary person in Bill’s life.  It was her face that first entered his mind in the morning, and the last to leave at night.  The emptiness of Sheree’s absence weighed heavily on Bill, even before her departure.  On her final day in Arkansas, Bill, along with several members of the Canton congregation, helped Sheree pack the belongings of her Penthouse suite.  [How could only one person, so young, have so much stuff?!  The BIG U-Haul truck . . . stuffed to the top.]  With everything finally packed, the others politely left Bill and Sheree alone in the still, empty suite.

Bill understood–achingly–the emptiness of the suite.

Young in love, yet out of time together, Bill and Sheree embraced as they sat on the barren carpet.  They bid their good-byes, kissed farewell, and she left.  Nonetheless excited about her future, Sheree cried as she left Little Rock behind her.

So did Bill.

Even after only one date, brilliantly punctuated with Bill’s fumbling words, Sheree knew that her future included Bill. Eager to see him again, Sheree chose her clothes carefully [professional, but certainly flattering!]. She arrived exactly on time, and strode confidently towards Bill. He rose from his chair as she approached, and as she sat down, Sheree wrought one of the most monumental changes of Bill’s life.

Neither understood at the time. When Sheree glided into her chair, it was the last meal that Bill would dine at a “table for one, please.” During ensuing meals, with or without company, Bill would always be dining with Sheree.

The meal over, the check paid, Sheree closed the door of her white 4-Runner. Deflated, she knew for certain: “Bill has no interest in me.” Their meal had been completely . . . professional.

His mind focused solely on the week ahead, Bill callously ignored the latent chemistry between them.

A MONTH, A MOVIE, AND THE MOMENT

Thanks to Sheree’s patience, the two grew closer. During the weekend event, the two talked, and talked, and talked. One evening’s talk led into the morning’s talk—Bill didn’t leave Sheree’s host-home until 3 am. In the month following, they took a daytrip to Petit Jean mountain for a hike. Bill had enjoyed a gourmet meal [prepared by Sheree] in her penthouse. They’d watched several movies together. Somehow their relationship survived a theatrical disaster—they shamefully paid to watch Lost In Space at the theatre.

Sheree knew absolutely—she’d one day be Mrs. Ramsey.

Bill was just beginning to consider something special between them.

They’d been seeing each other for almost 2 months when Sheree invited Bill to her geriatric penthouse. They’d enjoyed a meal there, and talked freely. Sheree cherished the rapt attention Bill paid when listening, and Bill enjoyed listening to Sheree more than he did anyone else. After the meal, Sheree and Bill curled onto the couch to watch one of Sheree’s favorite movies: Braveheart.

As the credits rolled, Sheree contained her tears [she still cries at the end of the movie]. Finally, half of the credits elapsed, Bill-the-Jelloheart, politely asked:

“Sheree—may I kiss you?”

It was, unmistakably, the most afraid he’d ever felt. He had spent an entire weekend [and half of the Braveheart credits] summoning the courage to ask.

“Yes, you may,” Sheree delicately answered.

It fell soon after Bill’s 26th Birthday—his first kiss. Like all first-kisses, it was clumsy and unsure, but sweet in its innocence.

Two months and dozens of clumsy kisses later, Sheree informed Bill:

“I’m moving to Georgia. I leave in 3 weeks.”

Towards the end of the art tour, the couple sat alone on a bench. With no transition in the conversation, Sheree bluntly challenged Bill: “So what’s the ring for?” She almost dared him to answer directly.

“It’s a gift from one of my closest friends,” Bill started. He’d explained it so many times, it seemed almost obvious. “We’ve been friends since we were 12-13 years old, and have been through a lot together. We both surrendered our lives to the Lord, and have done our best to live for Him. Early on, each of us made a commitment to sexual purity. During High School, he lapsed, and called it one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

“My Sophomore year of college, we were in our dorm room, talking about Christmas break. He asked what I wanted for Christmas. ‘Nothing,’ I told him–we were poor college dudes.

“‘I know what I want to give you then,’ he said. ‘I want you to learn from my mistakes.’

“So this is the ring that he gave me for Christmas. Every time I put it on, or somebody asks me about it, I remember that I’ve made a commitment to him, to my future wife, and to the Lord to remain abstinent. So on my wedding day, this is the other ring that I’ll give her. It’s my way of telling her, ‘you were worth the wait even before I knew you.’”

Although Sheree knew what the answer would be, she was dumbfounded. Not only was she sitting with a 25-year-old virgin guy, but it didn’t seem to bother him at all to tell others.

Considering Bill’s “other-gender-impairment” [an idiot around girls], his challenge to remain sexually pure was actually . . . no challenge at all.

Sheree hated that she liked him even more.

She remembered a conversation, when Sheree was 18, with her mother. Sheree proudly told her mom that she would one day marry a virgin. “If I can wait for him,” she reasoned, “then he can wait for me.”

“It won’t happen that way,” her mom quickly chided. “Guys don’t wait.”

“Well, if he wants to be with me, he’ll have to have waited.”

Her mom nodded away Sheree’s naivety. Sheree nodded away her mother’s doubt.

Much to Sheree’s own surprise, she invited Bill back to her suite for a movie. They stopped at the movie store, and Bill selected a movie that he had mentioned earlier. Sheree had never seen it, and Bill eagerly grabbed it for her to enjoy. Ever the romantic, Bill rented Planes, Trains, & Automobiles [with Steve Martin and John Candy].

The final credits rolled, a hug goodnight, and Bill drove home.

“Dinner.”

A free dinner. A free dinner, not alone in her apartment. If a guy wanted to take her out for an evening, Sheree decided that she’d make conversation, enjoy her meal, then properly scare him away from any romantic interest.

Friday night finally arrived, and Bill drove to Sheree’s home. In another building, Bill would have felt horribly intimidated. He went to meet a blind date, in her Penthouse suite, past the security gate and 2 security check-in’s. Her complex hosted an indoor pool and Jacuzzi, weekly maid service for each room, a full-time chef [not a cook–a chef!], and even room-service. Twice the size of any other room, the Penthouse suite held 2 bedrooms, 3 baths, 2 fireplaces, an expansive outdoor deck, and a master closet larger than Bill’s kitchen. As Bill, amazed, marveled at the splendor of Sheree’s living space, he chuckled to himself.

Sheree lived in a retirement village.

The owner of the complex, a member of her congregation, provided Sheree with free living space.

Both of the ladies who’d mentioned Sheree had already warned Bill: “She’s beautiful.” Sheree had also heard about Bill: “He’s bald.” Sheree watched from her 6^th floor window as a bald man, 40 years younger than any tenant in her complex, arrived in the parking lot. The moment Sheree first saw Bill, before he’d even closed the door of his car, she was swept away with emotion. . .

Sheree felt angry. Sheree had entirely determined that she wasn’t going to like Bill–or any would-be suitor–that approached her. She darted to the phone, and quickly called a friend. “He’s here, and he’s bald! And he’s made me so mad!” Sheree blurted. “He makes me want to like him!” she complained.

Bill was bringing her flowers. Only once before had she received flowers–from her Dad.

THE FIRST DATE

Sheree opened the door of her suite, and Bill felt immediately thankful that he was there on a blind date. Knowing his awkwardness with the opposite sex, Bill knew without a doubt–he would have never mustered the courage to ask out anyone so pretty.

Sheree wore a blue vest over a black top and shapely black pants. She greeted Bill with a hug and thanks for the flowers. Bill admired her wide, genuine smile, her abundant freckles, and especially her brilliant green eyes. When Sheree turned to tour him through her home, Bill again admired the shapely black pants.

Bill had refused any details about their date. After a 3 hour conversation, though, Bill knew exactly what Sheree would appreciate. He first took her to dinner at a Japanese Steakhouse–she’d subtly mentioned that it was her favorite. Following dinner, they then visited a local art show. Sheree had mentioned her fondness for art. As they arrived, Sheree thought to herself,

“Wow! He really was listening.” It was a welcome change from her loneliness. For the first time in a long time, someone had stopped his world to notice hers. She liked him slightly more . . . but only a little more.

She had noticed the only piece of jewelry that Bill wore–a simple gold band on his right pinkie finger. She thought she knew its significance, but would soon ask. She wondered if the question would make him uneasy, or if he’d try to avoid the answer. Sheree quietly hoped he would. She still wanted reasons to distrust him.

Bill still wondered if he’d ever meet the lady of his dreams.

Through the raging hormones of High School, and the maturing of college, Bill still saw no prospect of romantic entanglements. All of his closest friends had married and even started families.

Bill still waited to even kiss a girl.

As certain as Bill longed for a relationship, Sheree Baker certainly didn’t want any involvement–at all. Living in Little Rock (8 hours from home in Birmingham), enduring a dark season of the soul, Sheree had reconciled herself to a life of being single. “It’s just You and me, Lord,” she’d say, “and I don’t need anyone else.” After a few short, bad relationships, Sheree trusted only 2 men: Her Dad and Jesus. Before college graduation, before moving to Little Rock, before the dark season of the soul, Sheree had spent the summer of 1995 in Glorietta, New Mexico. Her summer of ‘95, combined with Bill’s Italian cooking class of ‘97, would obviously bring them together.

Although they’d never met, Bill and Sheree shared a common passion and career–Youth Ministry. Both had committed themselves to vocational ministry, and both served full-time in churches. Less than a month before the biggest event of the year, Bill winced when a leader backed out of her commitment to help for the weekend. Knowing he’d exhausted all of his possible leaders, Bill panicked. It was a Sunday night when Bill blurted out to one of the members of his Youth Committee, “Martha, I’m in trouble. I’ve had a leader back out on me, and I have got to find someone–and I don’t have anyone to call! Please pray. I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, I know a girl you might consider,” Martha began. “Her name is Sheree Baker. We met her a few years ago when the previous Youth Minister took the Youth Group to church camp in Glorieta. My daughter and her have kept in touch since then, and she’s working with Youth and Children in Little Rock. Aside from the event,” taking the motherly tone of a matchmaker, “I think you two would really like each other.”

Bill considered the recommendation, afraid of inviting someone he’d never met. Four days later, Bill attended his second round of Italian Cooking class. During the first session, two ladies had kindly befriended Bill and one of his college comrades. During the second round of classes, one of the ladies invited Bill to dinner. “I’d love for you to meet our Youth Minister,” she explained. “She’s tall, slender, beautiful, and she sings like a bird. Her name is Sheree.”

“Sheree Baker?” Bill asked, shocked.

“Yes!” the matchmaker delighted, “You know her?!”“No,” Bill admitted, “but I’ve heard her name before.” Bill didn’t mention that he’d only heard her name on Sunday. Cooking class fired up on Thursday nights.

In retrospect, Bill couldn’t understand: Why would beautiful, lusty, young ladies not be helplessly attracted to him? He attended culinary classes with another guy/a married woman, shunned athletics for his calligraphy pursuits, listened to Barry’s music [not to be confused with the sultry tunes of Barry White], lived alone, prematurely balded, and didn’t even own a television . . . what more could a woman want?! In the depths of his heart, Bill believed that discerning ladies had abandoned the illusion of “Tall, Dark, and Handsome” for the raw sensuality of “Bald, Pasty, Pudgy.” How could virginal Bill remain single and kiss-less? The Great Pyramids of Egypt, Time Travel, the Origin of the Universe . . . some mysteries simple baffle logic and good sense.