Father of the Bride

When Erin was six years old, she had a bicycle. It was exactly what you would imagine for a little girl. It was pink with turquoise accents and tires so white you knew they would never touch the grass.

One pretty fall day, I took her with me on a run. We removed her scrunchy ponytail holders so that her glittery helmet would fit and we both promised her mom she would drink plenty of water.

As I ran, she would pedal alongside me. Her handlebar streamers danced merrily in the wind as her constant chatter released every thought that crossed her mind. Our path wound through the park that adjoined our subdivision and we dutifully stopped at each water fountain to let her get a drink of water. I would stand on the foot pedal that was too stiff for a small girl and hold her while she drank a few sips of water. Then we would take off again, streamers dancing, white wheels turning, Erin chatting.

For ten miles.

I don’t know if most little girls can ride a bike that far or not. We certainly never trained for it. Like most of our weekends, we chased a whimsical notion that promised fun and grand adventure without thinking too far through the details.

When the modest hills of central Tennessee proved too much for the young rider, she would look at me with big round eyes that said she didn’t know if she could make it or not. I would smile at her, tell her she was doing great, and place my hand on her back, giving her whatever gentle push was necessary to get her to the crest. Now on the other side of the hill, she would take her feet off the pedals, smile and laugh while the wind blew in her face. The moment’s rest prepared her to start pedaling again.

We never spoke about the pushes, only the great distances she covered and the majestic sites we encountered in the park’s wooded areas.

I wanted her to believe that she was always safe with me nearby and to use her creativity to envision big dreams where anything is possible. My daddy job was to create an environment where fear had no place and love filled every space.

I never thought I’d have to give her away.

It is a strange expression, but it captures the emotions that flood my heart as her wedding day approaches. As her ceremony begins, I will be the one who gives away the bride.

Life has been busy for the past twenty-two years as I focused to provide the basics for our family. So much to do, so much to teach, so much joy to pack in. With all my efforts focused on preparing her to lead the next generation, I neglected to prepare myself emotionally for this day.

I know that we will always have a special connection. But, for the first time, it’s not my job to enter each dark room first. It isn’t my place to stand by her side with my hand on her back in case she gets tired. No matter what I think is best, it’s not my time to choose.

It is my time to give her away. She has chosen someone else to walk through life with. There is another brave man ready to protect her and ensure that all of her days are filled with love.

She has chosen wisely. As the father of the bride, my job has been to keep the wrong guys moving down the road and to encourage the best and most worthy. When I release her hand so that she can embrace another, I need to know he is the right one.

For two years, I’ve watched Josh as he walks alongside her. I have weighed traits like the fun-loving, impetuousness of youth against the deliberate, forward-thinking of a provider. I have observed his response during danger, looking to see if he steps between her and the threat, or if he withdraws to protect himself. I have prayed to see if he is God’s choice to lead their family.

He is the one. I will surrender her hand to him and entrust him with her life.

But it won’t be without my own tears. There is a little sadness of the closing of an era, but there is more joy at the coming of a new day.

My role will change again, and I am blessed to have Kim to help navigate our next steps together. We have gone from a young, starry-eyed couple to parents, then to empty nesters, and are now blessing a family that will continue our proud march.

My message to Josh:
Love Erin well, be everything that God calls you to be, and go build your own family. If the climb gets steep, know that I am ready to walk alongside you. What I have is yours. I am giving you the best and whatever you need from the rest.