Let’s Talk About It • Cool Dad Moments

Fathers contribute so much to the lives of their family members, and this month we are recognizing our own fathers for some of the things they did that we consider “cool.”

We’ve each selected just one “cool dad moment” to focus on, and since each of the three of us have a little something to share…

Let’s talk about it!


Marcy   »  Extreme Bike Makeover

My neighbor had offered to sell me the bike that she had outgrown, and I thought it was the deal of the century. I ran home to get my dad, convincing him along the walk back to the neighbor’s house that I needed the bike even though it was not really in the greatest of shape.

When we finally returned to see the neighbor about the sale, she increased her price from five dollars to eight. My dad just chuckled and graciously paid her for the slightly rusted and well used blue bike.

A few days later my dad surprised me with the finished product of a pink and lavender bike. He had worked to cover the rust, painting over the triangular designs and changing the bike to my favorite two colors.

As a little girl, this was an extremely cool moment. But I now understand that the coolest part is that I have a father who exemplifies and takes the time to express the love of a Heavenly Father.  I am blessed to have an earthly Father who has loved both my sister and I well.

Hilary   »   Run for the Roses

I’m not quite sure how it started, but sometime around my fourth-grade year my dad (the Marine) would take me jogging with him. At first, we just ran around the neighborhood–one lap, then two and three, eventually making ourselves an approximate three-mile route from our neighborhood to another and back.

Most of the jog we would just be running together in silence, which was nice in quietly comforting kind of way (and honestly I probably could not have mustered the spare oxygen to be very conversational). Sometimes, especially on the first longer routes, when my dad could tell I was struggling a little, he would offer advice or tell stories about his own physical training for the military to encourage me to keep going and distract me from the difficulty at hand. Later, as I got more accustomed to the runs, my dad would challenge me to incorporate different techniques that would not only keep me going but help me to become faster and stronger.

One of the things my dad seemed to think most important was to keep a goal in mind, be it short-term, like the finish line or a post-run reward, or long-term, like enhancing my overall fitness or placing well in race—such as 5K Run for the Roses race he had signed us up for in the spring of my fifth-grade year.

The goal my dad set for the race was to finish in under 30 minutes, and we did, with a bit of time to spare. I understand that time is not a record-setting pace and certainly was not an incredible feat for my dad, but those facts did not diminish my pride in meeting that goal. And I think my dad was kind of proud about it too because, well, he said so at the time, but also because when we got home he pinned up our race numbers in the garage, saying we should start training for our next race, which, he said, should be a marathon.

My dad and I kept running together for a number of years, but various commitments and injuries (mostly on my part) kept us from ever competing in a marathon, but they have not kept me from bearing in mind some of the valuable lessons I learned on the road with my dad.


Leigh Ann   »  The Gift of Being There

As I waded through years of cool dad moments, I thought about the times Dad would arrive home from work (after an hour-plus commute), step inside to hug mom and my siblings, then run back outside to shoot baskets with me before dinner. He seemed to have a never-ending source of energy and enthusiasm, and I loved those late afternoons refining my lay-up and learning about life.

But the memory that will forever stay golden-hued is one from when I was a clueless, headstrong girl of 20. Independent to a fault, I was tired of college classes and dead-end jobs. I was a wandering soul yearning for something new.

A friend in the military wrote me about the excitement and adventure of traveling the world while serving our country. That’s all it took.

Months later I clutched my orders and waited with other wandering souls in a military processing center where we would fly from the heart of North Carolina to San Antonio, Texas, for Air Force basic training.

Days before, I had declined my dad’s offer of a ride to the processing center in Raleigh. I had it covered. And no, I didn’t need anyone to see me off (especially my parents). I was a grown woman who knew what she was doing.

So, there I sat. Ready to take on the world. Waiting for adventure.

And more terrified than I’d ever been of anything in my life. I’d never felt so alone.

Minutes before boarding the bus that would take us to the airport, an outer door opened. And there, his gaze scanning the crowded room, stood the most handsome, most wonderful man in the world.

I couldn’t reach him fast enough.

In an instant, I felt the impact of my decision to serve. Seeing Dad—who had served—brought home the significance of what I was doing. The fact that he came to say goodbye, to see me off, overwhelmed this hardheaded kid, and I was flooded with love, appreciation, and respect.

My dad being there that day brought home all the years of his being there. I was humbled and grateful. And I wanted to make him proud.

I’m forever thankful for a cool dad who models Christ’s forgiveness, patience, and forbearance. And who continues to shower this hardheaded kid with love.


Do you have a “cool dad moment” you’re grateful for?

Please comment below to share with us!



4 thoughts on “Let’s Talk About It • Cool Dad Moments

  1. What beautiful “Cool Dad Moments”! The moment that came to mind as I read your stories occurred when I was approximately 6 or 7 years-old. During tobacco harvesting season, I didn’t see my Daddy a lot. He worked a day job, grabbed supper, and worked at a local tobacco warehouse each night. The only way I knew he had come home at night was the site of a cellophane-wrapped piece of bubble gum on my nightstand when I awoke each morning. In those days, I was just glad to have a sugary glob of sweetness. These days, I realize it was his way of saying, “I’m still here, and I thought of you.”


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