|Dad in the background building a garden plot in our backyard|
|Dad standing at our front door.|
I feel such gratitude for my father, Jim Lauret. I have flashbacks of him working under the hood of a car in the garage while listening to a BYU football game on the radio. That scene morphs into him building a master suite in the basement, then into him building my dream bedroom complete with a loft bed and a stairway. Next I see him gathering up zucchinis and tomatoes from the garden. His jeans are dirty, his old holey shirt is dirty, and his brow is wet with sweat. This is dad on Saturdays.
Next we see dad in his suit helping his boys tie their ties, then his hands are wrapping wads of newspaper around the beam on his bike to create another seat. We are riding our bikes to church today, just until dad finishes fixing the van. Dad packs one kid in a backpack thingie and another balanced on his makeshift bike seat between his legs. At church, he whispers to us to think about Jesus as we take the sacrament. Then it's time for Sunday school. He's the favorite teacher. As his students answer questions correctly, they get to toss rolled up socks into colanders balanced on their classmate's heads. There's homemade chocolate chip cookies for the winners. When we get home, dad's already in the kitchen chopping veggies and frying onions for a warm dinner. This is dad on Sundays.
|Me (age 9ish) and my dad, just a snapshot in the van in between parade of homes stops|
If it's Monday, Wednesday, or Friday, then you're hearing the front door creak at 5:50am as dad sneaks out to play basketball at the Stake center. He comes home a little after 7am and wakes up all the kids for prayer time. By the time we all gather in the living room, he's well on his way to having a hot breakfast ready for us. Sometimes it was pancakes, sometimes biscuits, often egg omelets or breakfast burritos. He's often helping with last minute math problems or finding missing shoes before we head out the door to school and he to work. When we come home from school, mom ensures we don't eat too many snacks because dad will be home to make dinner at 5:10. I liked to be near when dad made dinner so I could help. If I was there, he'd give me jobs. "Stir the onions until they're translucent" (What's translucent, dad?), "Peel 6 carrots," "Wash this lettuce," "Hold out your hand (pours salt and spices into it) now sprinkle it on the meat." Within moments, we were having a hot dinner as a family. As the news came on at 10, we'd stay up to watch the weather report together. If Mr. Eubank, the weatherman, was wearing his white coat, we knew there was snow coming. Then it was time for scriptures and prayers before going to bed. This is dad on the weekdays.
As we got older, dad got busier keeping up with us, but he kept up! He went to everyone's everything- band, choir, and dance concerts, football, soccer, softball, basketball, and baseball games, plays, fairs, awards ceremonies, etc.. He took us camping in the summer, on road trips to the national parks on school breaks, and to ghost towns to hunt for fool's gold on weekend getaways.
Then, we kids got really older, moved out, and had families of our own. He still gathers us for dates, cooking competitions, dinners at his house, reunions, camping, Easter egg hunts and gingerbread house building. Dad taught me that relationships are important and shared experiences are what build those relationships. So true.
As far as fathers go, my dad is the best. I love him so much! Happy Father's Day!
|April, me and dad on a date at Mongolian bbq place in Springville, Utah.|
|Dad putting some details onto this toy story 3 gingerbread house|
|A hike with "grandpa Jim" at a campout|
|Dad cooking to feed an army of family kalbi pork!|