3. I missed him.

So, my dad was the Chair of the Pastor Search Committee. Subconsciously, I did feel a distinct, vain swell of pride.  Our church was one of the “larger” (but by no means the largest) in our city, and MY dad was going to lead us into a new era.

Oh, how wrong I was.  How wrong we all were.

Well, a committee was formed.  They even put some women on it. Shocker, huh?  At the time, I didn’t feel surprised, but looking back, I’m seriously in awe.  They would never have put a woman on staff, yet they allowed women to be a part of the search.  Huh.

And so, they searched.  And they searched.  And they searched. And they searched.

Which meant he was gone Sunday after Sunday.  They had to go visit other churches….listen to other preachers, all before reviewing candidates.  And then came the candidates, which meant traveling. So, Dad was gone. A Lot. And he missed so much.

He missed me sing.  He missed me cry. He missed me smile.  He missed me throw temper tantrums.

He missed me.

And I missed him.


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