“My father gave me the greatest gift anyone could give another person, he believed in me.” -Jim Valvano
My dad’s signature isn’t quite written on my heart but it is right behind it; every time I see it in the mirror, it reminds me of the card I copied it from: one with Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech printed on the cover. That speech exemplifies the way my dad lived his life: refusing to give in to bitterness or hatred, acting as if every man – rich and poor, black and white, young and old – were his equal, working to make God’s glory seen in the world, never letting go of his dreams. It also reminds me of why my dad gave me that card: because he never stopped believing in me either. Along with my mom, he was always my biggest fan, always sure that I could do absolutely anything I set my mind to. For a while, I believed that he was right. I think the confidence that came from that trust is what helped me succeed in college and make it through medical school. Somehow, though, I lost that belief in residency and came back home a scarred, broken girl. And, yet, he still believed. Still saw potential in me to conquer my demons and make a dent in the world. It was me who couldn’t see it.
Now that he’s gone, I’m slowly learning to see again, slowly beginning to nourish that weak, starving seed of confidence that he planted in me and tended so faithfully for so many years. I’m gradually beginning to realize that he didn’t think I was perfect, didn’t expect me to never fail. No, what he saw in me was a flawed soul who could fall down and get back up again; an imperfect being who would try her hardest to get things right, even if she often didn’t; a tender heart with a desire to please the world. In short, he saw a daughter just like him.
Thank you, Dad, for the gift of your belief. Thank you for continuing to speak to my heart every day, reminding me that I am perfect in all my imperfection (as are you, dear reader!)
365 Days of Grace 