Preacher's Kid

My dad is a minister. He's been a pastor, a military chaplain, a hospital chaplain, and now an interim preacher. That makes me a preacher's kid, something people find intriguing.

EXAMPLE 1.
Everyone: "What's it like having a dad who's a minister?
Leslie: What's it like having a dad who's not a minister?

EXAMPLE 2.
Almost Everyone: There are only two kinds of preacher's kids. Are you the really good kind or the really bad kind?"
Young Leslie: The really good kind.
(Older Leslie: None of your business.)

It also intimidates people. I once invited a college friend to go home with me for the weekend. She got all freaked out.

Friend: I can't go stay at your house!
Leslie: Why not?
Friend: Because I sin every five minutes!

Friends have often said they feel like my dad can see right through them. That's just a combination of their guilty consciences and my dad's ability to look people in the eyes and truly listen to what they are saying. There's no way he has x-ray vision or I wouldn't have survived my teen years.

Luckily for me, perfection wasn't part of the preacher's kid job description. My dad would assure you it wasn't part of his job description either, but I think he comes pretty close.

Father's Day

In honor of Father's Day, here's my dad.

Dad growing up, up, up.

Dad holding baby me.

Dad ready to escort me down the aisle.

Dad seeing Cambryn for the first time.

My dad has always been very proud of his family; there's never been any doubt about that. Likewise, I've always been very proud of my dad. He's my hero.

Dad, thank you for making me. I love you.

Older Now

I've aged a year since my last post. I figure it's better than the alternative.

Kennedyland

I can't look at this without smiling. Thank you, JK, for inviting us to your party and taking this photo. Swimming, a giant inflatable slide, a moon bounce and, ohmygosh, mechanical bullriding?! Cambryn can hardly wait for your birthday next year.