days that build me…
I went with them yesterday, ‘them’ being the three females in my life. Two of them, my daughters, needed swimsuits because, well, its summer. The third of ‘them’, also known as their mother, had warned me: you know they want buhkeeknees, right? I said I had heard that word several times of late but had always tried to change the subject. For example –
Daughter: Dad, I really really want a buhkeeknee.
Me: Sweet-girl, have you finished reading Rob Bell’s book yet?
Anyway, I went along yesterday, I felt it needed to be a father’s day on some level. So I stood in a store called Justice and leaned against a waiting-wall while three video screens assaulted my senses with some little tweener-boy trying to sing ‘Broken Hallelujah.’ I kid you not. As the poor kid butchered a classic I eyed my girls’ feet below the 3/4 dressing room door, feet I know well, toes I’ve counted, this little piggy and stuff like that. Their not-so-little-anymore feet skittered around accompanied by growing-girl giggles…broken hallelujahs to my heart.
I don’t know about a hell, but I do believe in God because somehow my daughters’ eyes were earlier drawn to that known as the tankeeknee. Now I’ve nothing against buhkeeknees, I’m rather fond of them in fact. But when you’re a dad that fondness is tempered by that fact that you’re a male and you know how fond males of any age are of girls sitting on chaise loungers in their bra and panties. I needed something for these middle-dad days I’m in and that meant something to cover their-middle…voila, enter the tankeeknee.
I stood up straight as I saw the dressing room door open. Two visions stepped forward to get my approval: whaddaya think, dad? If they only knew what I thought…if they only knew my thrill at seeing their ear-wide grins, a thrill coupled with an extreme difficulty to breathe, sorta like my saddle shifting right underneath me. If they only knew how excited I am for the summer days they have ahead of them, while I so long for those seasoned days when they let me wash their hair. What do I think? Well, I like ’em. Let’s get ’em. And so we did.
Yesterday was a day that built me, my daughters’ father, just a little more. I may make it after all. The gentle irony was our experience took place in a store called Justice. Any man worth his salt knows fathers are built by one thing and one thing only – mercy.
Thanks, Winn…and for the nod of FB.
Ok, OK, I’ll show my ignorance. I asked my wife, I google it and I still am in the dark about what the heck is a buhkeeknee…. en †heos…jim
Jim, our roots are southern and when folks from the south say ‘bikini’ it sounds like buhkeeknee…
Duh…..I have been reading too many African/India stories. Heck, I am from the South and was trying way too hard to put a different pronunciation to it. I will be a fix’n to go sit n the corner with a road pylon (Texan for Dunce cap) on my head.LOL and out…….en †heos….jim
Mercy and fatherhood; fatherhood and mercy……..ah yes!!!!!!!!!!! THE FATHER. Grace and peace and mercy on us all. AND Happy Father’s Day John!
And to you as well, Neil…thanks for stopping by…
Three sons and one on the way. Somehow, I’m a little thankful right now. I’ve a young heart, but I’m not sure I could take it.
Seth, beneath the gender specific rocks a river runs through it all…the waters of mercy. Grace for you and your increasing quiver.
This makes me recall the sermon from days gone by that called out the dads who allowed their tween and teenaged daughters to wear clothing with words plastered across their posteriors. With a seven year old daughter in tow these days, I’m bracing for the waves that will soon be crashing against my ship.
Definitely some riptides to navigate, Lane…but I bet you’ll do fine, just fine…hope all is well with you and yours.
i wish i had had a father like you.
Thanks, Jamie…I wish I’d had a sister like you.
My little girlie is almost 5. Oh, mercy. Thanks for reminding me to cherish every single day.
Drink in every minute you can, Susie…it goes too, too fast.
After your shopping trip with your son, I trust you held the bathing suits up to a dark light to check for hidden messages.
Oh Mr. John Blase, I love the words you clothe life in.
What Suz said. God sure has healed a lot of father-daughter hurts through seeing the relationship between my children and their father. He doesn’t use the same words you use, but the protection, wistfulness, and boundless love is identical.
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