The Father of the Bride Remembers

Pondering framed pictures in the hallway of my heart

When I think about my daughter getting married on her day,
so many precious memories crowd my head.
I think about her big blue eyes that closed each night at eight
as I said a prayer while kneeling by her bed.

I can see her with her Barbies as together we would play
make-believing on the floor pretending life.
I could tell as I observed my little princess talk to dolls
that she’d grow up to become a loving wife.

I remember her in soccer with a ponytail that bobbed
as she raced down field with dreams of kicking goals.
She epitomized persistence and uncanny discipline.
She attempted all she did with heart and soul.

In my mind I hear her oboe and the haunting notes she played
as she practiced after dinner in the den.
I can still recall her primping in the bathroom for a date
and the panic when a zit camped on her chin.

On the day she left for college, I could not hold back my tears.
She looked all grown up exuding confidence.
But I knew behind her smile was a nervous little kid
hoping desperately the campus would make sense.

I have memories of boyfriends and her search for Mr. Right
and the lessons that she learned along the way.
How she sought the Lord for guidance and found joy in what He said
and the lasting peace that comes when we obey.

Yes, the memories are many as I contemplate her life
and the speed at which the years have raced-on by.
But I’m grateful for the “pictures” in the hallway of my heart
that will call to mind my princess till I die.

* The following article appeared in The Mercer Island REPORTER this week about my daughter’s upcoming big day: