Rebecca McInnis

As a child, I grew up under the strong hand of a wonderful, loving and godly father. (Sometimes I felt his hand was a bit stronger than necessary, but looking back, I can see why he had to be so firm with me.) Whenever Father’s Day came around, I was always happy to either make or buy a card for him, give him a token of my love and make his day special. It was a day I looked forward to.

As an adult, I appreciated Daddy even more and, with a husband and family of my own, came to understand more fully the need to be firm but loving. When we moved to Florida many years ago, it seemed that Arkansas (Daddy’s home) was continents away from ours. We spoke on the phone quite often but were able to see each other only a couple of times a year.

When Daddy died, I felt alone. Although I had a husband and family, there was nothing like having my daddy to talk to. I knew he loved me no matter what my faults or failures were and always wanted the best for me.

Even after Daddy died, I still loved Father’s Day. It was always a special day in our home. I enjoyed watching our three daughters make or buy cards and gifts for their daddy. We would fix his favorite foods and make him “King for a Day.”