My Dad’s toolbox…

A few months ago I decided to paint my kitchen and family room yellow.  Being green from the day I’d moved in…I wanted a change.

Brighten things up. Dust off the cobwebs.

I purchased a gallon of paint for three walls…and a second gallon of a slightly different shade for the fourth. I gathered all of my tools…tape, ladder, drop cloth, brushes…just like my Dad had taught me.

Then got to work.

I was determined to get the job done.  Knew I could do it.  All three kids were gone for the weekend…a perfect time to work.

On Friday, I moved the appliances and furniture and began to tape.  I was several hours in when I realized I was way over my head. Stubbornness kept me going.

At ten o’clock that night, my Dad walked in and I was never so happy to see him!  He arrived with two beer in one hand, a roller in the other…wearing a pair of paint coveralls and a grin on his face. I’d been rescued!

We worked all weekend and made two more trips to Benjamin Moore for my underestimated paint! Dad stayed by my side the entire time…lending his ever helpful hand. He’s always there to help…whether I ask him to or not.

My Dad can do it all… carpentry, plumbing, electrical, painting… whatever needs to be done.

He can fix anything.

Including a broken heart.

Whenever there’s a project, Dad has the right tools to get the job done.  He comes fully prepared for anything… he has every imaginable tool you could ever possibly need.  A year and a half ago he arrived at my house with a tool box full of encouragement, commitment, understanding, patience and love.  The project took a little longer than others we’ve taken on…but we got it done.

Dad has stood by me for every step of this journey. He’s held me up. Believed in me. Made me laugh. Paid my bills. Shown up. Encouraged. Trusted. Pushed. He gave me everything I needed to get the job done. He fixed things.

From the time I was a little girl and was nicknamed his “Queen,” I’ve had more love thrown my way than I can possibly begin to explain. I’ve got the Dad who is there no matter what….he “gets” me. For that, I am truly lucky, incredibly grateful…blessed.

Happy Father’s Day Bob…I love you more than words can say. Thanks for everything you and Mom do…together we’re one helluva team.

3 Replies to “My Dad’s toolbox…”

  1. I have a dad like that too. I just wish he lived closer. Once again, I shed a tear. It's been a hulluva day, thanks for reminding me that we're both 'daddy's little girls'.

  2. How could he show up with tools. I either lost them or left them out in the rain to rust when I was living under his roof.

    Happy Father's Day Dad!