Growing up, my sisters and I all had chores that we rotated. Clean the bathroom, dust, wash dishes, etc. I hated chores. Why am I lying? I still hate chores. But there was one task in the house that was completely my responsibility. In fact, if I caught one of my sisters attempting to carry out the task, I had a fit.
Every evening when my daddy came home from work and sat down in his chair, I would plop down in front of him and take off his shoes.
I don’t remember when I started doing this, I feel like I did it all of my life. It was one of my favorite things to do every single day.
See, Daddy didn’t want to talk when he came home. After talking all day at work and after work at church, or meetings, and sometimes even job # 2, talking was the last thing he wanted to do. The only issue was walking into a house with three girls who always had some “wait til I tell Daddy” story on the tip of their tongues. Poor Daddy just wanted to relax. It felt like an honor to help him with that process.
Sometimes I want to go back to being his baby girl. I want him to walk through the door, tell us all to hush, and go sit in that big blue recliner. I want to plop down at his feet and remove his shoes. I want to feel that sense of privilege that came with knowing that I was part of the reason my Daddy could finally relax.