When it came to picking out a father for my children, I cheated.  When I met Chuck, he was already a dad.  On our first date I bore witness to his relationship with his son.  He wasn’t a perfect parent (no one is), but the longer we dated, the more I was impacted by the love, pride and devotion Chuck had – and still has – for Chandler.  I saw tears (from Chuck’s eyes) over long separations and complete joy wash over his face when they reunited.  I watched my future husband pour into Chan’s spiritual growth and I watched them play.  By the time Chuck proposed, I could hardly wait to have children with this man.  We were pregnant within our first year of marriage.

When Shelby came along, I learned how good my husband is in crisis.  When our daughter started seizing at 4 months of age, Chuck’s cool head and tender concern were a life vest to this drowning mama.  I can’t even count the number of times he scooped her convulsing body up in his arms and drove her to the hospital.  But I also can’t count the number of times he has pushed her in a swing, read her a book, pedaled her wheelchair bicycle, or tickled the bottom of her foot until she is howling with laughter.  He is involved in every medical decision, education planning meeting, and therapy goal.  And as Shelby has grown, Chuck has taken the lead in many of the more difficult aspects of her care as injury and illness have knocked me down time and again.

Chuck was as excited for Allie – our last baby – as he was for the first.  Little girls really do have a way of wrapping their daddies around their little fingers.  It’s a cliche because it’s true.  As she has planted herself firmly in the pre-teen years, their relationship has gotten more difficult.  Hormones and “girl issues” have been a challenge for Daddy to navigate, but oh, how he is trying.  If love could be measured in effort, his affection for his baby girl would flow off the chart.

Then came the grandkids.  We have 4 of them already (at a very young age I might add).  And Pop adores them.  He takes every opportunity he can to see them and misses them like crazy when he can’t.  He loves to play with them – from the oldest to the youngest.  And they love him.

This year, I feel that I have experienced Chuck as a father in an increasingly personal way.  With my cancer diagnosis, my husband has somewhat changed his role from lover to care-giver.  This is only temporary, mind you.  Stella will get her groove back.  But for now, he is loving me by helping me with surgery wound care, reminding me to take my medicine, making sure I am sleeping enough and not over-exerting, and going with me to doctor’s appointments whenever possible.  He prays over me and dotes over me; and even with cancer, I feel like the luckiest girl in the world because he is with me.

God was very generous when He chose Chuck to lead our family.  I can truthfully say to our Daddy, “I thank my God in all my remembrance of you.”  Phil 1:3 NASB  Happy Father’s Day, Chuck.

If you read my last weepy, whiney blog post, you know I now have an open wound from a post surgery infection.  And if you didn’t get a chance to read it, I’m sure my description has you antsy to click here and devour that uplifting piece.  To insure the healing of the infection, I am currently attached to a wound vac 24 hours a day.  I have provided a picture of one for you here because – trust me on this one – you don’t want to google images for “wound vac” yourself.  You can’t unsee that.

This device is attached to an opening in my abdomen and it stays in an ugly, black cross-body bag that I wear at all times.  (Someone suggested I carry it in a cute cross-body instead, but why put pearls on the pig?)  Since I named both of my JP drains after my big surgery, my husband insisted that I needed to name this too.  He immediately started brain-storming on the way to the surgeon’s office to get it.  I told him I thought we needed to wait and meet him first before we could come up with an appropriate title.  After placement and instructions, it came to me while climbing back into the car to go home.  Remember this doll?

Wherever I go, he goes.  Seems appropriate.  And you are welcome for the ear worm.  Anyway, my Buddy continuously removes infected tissue from the area and stores it in the canister on the right side of the machine.  To add insult to injury (literally), it makes gurgling, farting type noises as it works.  *Sigh*  It’s almost enough to turn me into a hermit.

My first few days home from the hospital, I was too self conscious to get out of the house much, so a sweet friend came over to hang out with me for the afternoon.  I was grouching and complaining (as I am so apt to do) about having to lug this thing around – I mean, just taking a shower and trying to keep it dry is a herculean task.  But as I spewed my negativity, my friend said, “Well, I’m just so thankful there is a way to fight infection.”  Oh.  Well, sure.  Look on the bright side.

Oh, this is why we need each other.  When I can’t see the healing for the wound vac, someone else can.  “Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor:  If either of them falls down, one can help the other up.  But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.”  Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 NIV  When I need scraping up off the floor, a sister in Christ can do that for me.  And hopefully soon, when I am less needy, I can reciprocate.  “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.”  Proverbs 27:17  NIV  So even if I am embarrassed and feel like secluding myself at home, I am going to fight that urge, because I need my people.  “And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another – and all the more as you see the Day approaching.”  Hebrews 10:24-25 NIV