All year I've been on the planning committee to create Whitefield's annual Daddy Daughter Dance this spring. We planned a Daddy Daughter Sock Hop; complete with poodle skirts, dinner at the local 50's diner, and hula hoop competitions.
Several weeks before the dance this past weekend, Jamy and I found out we would be out of town. Early on in our marriage, Jamy and I decided that the only thing that would come before our kids in our family was our marriage. When we had to make a decision between an intensive marriage conference that was out of town and the Daddy Daughter dance, the decision was clear (although incredibly hard).
This is THE quintessential event of the year if you are 7. So when Isabelle found out that Daddy wouldn't be taking her this year, there was devastation. Truth be told, there was devastation on all our parts. Jamy desperately wanted to take her. I wanted to see the results of a year of hard work. And of course Isabelle wanted to go to the Daddy Daughter Dance with her Daddy.
This story seems headed for heartbreak. Luckily, it has a happy ending. When my brother found out about the situation, he offered to take Isabelle. This means Tim drove a total of 16 hours just to take his niece to the Daddy Daughter Dance (which Bella now affectionately calls her very own "Uncle Niece Dance"). He drove hundreds of miles, dressed up (purchased that great greaser jacket and glasses with the attached mustache), and spent the evening doing The Twist and The Handjive with his niece.
Even writing about it now still makes tears well up in my eyes and my heart overflow with thanks at a brother and uncle who would sacrifice so much to take Isabelle to a dance.
This weekend my brother sowed into my daughter and told her how important she is.
This weekend my brother sowed into my marriage and told us how valuable it is.
This weekend my brother showed me Jesus. (Even if Jesus was wearing a leather jacket and a fake 'stache.)
Thanks bro. You'll always be my favorite brother.
Love.
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