Pushing The Value of Creativity - My, 'Why?'

Dear Annie Rose,

I don’t have money, but daddy is still a very wealthy man.  While I adore your mother, the greatest miracle of my life was watching you and Madeline come into this world.  Shortly after you were born I heard Etta James, “At Last,” on the radio and wept:  “My heart was wrapped-up in clovers the night I looked at you.”  God bestowed fatherhood upon me the night you were born, a responsibility and joy still too great to comprehend!

Well, you are now registered for preschool!  Ouch!  You are playing on the doorstep of this great house of education that you will soon be residing-in for many years to come.  Listen, kid, I don’t care what you choose to become.  God gave us the task of loving you unconditionally, and celebrating your unique gifts. We do pray that you glorify the Lord in all that you do.  We will do our darndest to model this for you everyday, but ultimately the choice of how you live your life will be yours.  We just want you prepared.

This house of education I was talking about…its kinda old and needs a few repairs.  When things are broken, Dads seem to want to fix them even if they don’t know how.  You will learn soon enough, Annie Rose that life is neither fair nor equitable.  But if you feel moved by the Spirit to fix something broken (even if you don’t know how), and even if others think you are a nut job, I got your back.

The house of education you are about to enter is water stained and peeling eggshell white. I am not sure if that is even a color, or just a texture?  Anyway, I want to scrape and repaint every room before you get there.  I want to paint the ceilings with a fresh coat of empathy, the floors a durable coat of grit, the walls detailed with purpose, the long hallways covered with discernment…and the whole house illuminated by creativity.  Now that’s a house of education!

It’s insane, I know!!!  I don’t really know where to start, but they did give me a key (he, he).  Yeah, I will start with the parlor on the right as you walk-in…I’ll scrape and paint until others help-out, or they kick me to the curb.  In the meantime I’ll pretend like I am supposed to be there; the old confident-swagger trick.

Before we pack your lunch on that first day of school know this:  I don’t care what you learn as much as I care about how you learn, and especially how you see the world around you…and the way you treat others.  My advice; love the Lord, be a Renaissance woman…be creative.  

And if you see me emotional while listening to Etta James, you now know why!

Love,

Daddy