Father's Day Redux

I meant to post this last Sunday on Father's Day, but what with calling the fatherly figures in my life, I completely forgot. When I wrote about my mom in response to a question in Bible study, "Who is someone that has the capacity to make you feel loved and what in particular does he or she do to cause you to feel so lovable?", I also wrote about my father:

I read an article the other day about a girl whose father never failed to ask her if she’d checked the oil in her car. Over time, the girl came to realize that this was her father’s way of saying “I love you.” I laughed, because that is a question my father never fails to ask me either, but I also realized too that that is his way of expressing love. Don’t get me wrong, he’ll say the words, but those words would mean nothing if he hadn’t backed them up with action. With over-long lectures about house-buying, stock-purchasing, car-buying, you-name-it. With too much concern over the state of my finances. With random email conversations when we both should be working. With long bike rides by the Poudre. With innumerable attempts to set me up. With ice cream purchases to get me my calcium. With surprise car washes. With surprise trips to ice-skating shows when I know he’d far rather be listening to his favorite sport team losing. With sappy emails any time he hears a song about a dad and his little girl. My dad loves me, of that I have no doubt. Not only because he tells me, which is nice, but because he’s constantly showing that love in everything he does.