First Father's Day is the real gift

From Wednesday's The Lima News...

Becoming a father always seemed like it was a matter of choice to me. Little did I know it wasn’t my choice; it was Lissie’s.
Lissie is 4 years old. She went that far in life without a father figure, by that man’s own choice. She grew up hearing she only had a mother, but that meant her mommy loved her twice as much.
It’s an awkward situation when you fall in love with a single mother with a young daughter. You’re not just wooing one woman; you’re wooing two.
After my future wife, Jessica, and I finished our first magical date, we quickly set a second date for the following night. Jessica asked if it would be all right to bring her daughter, and I eagerly agreed. After all, how could I get to know her without getting to know her daughter?
That second date with Jessica, or the first with Lissie, was difficult. This blonde-haired 4-year-old didn’t trust men. She wasn’t sure why her mom wanted me to come along. Still, we headed out to Suter’s Cornfield Maze near Pandora.
Throughout the trip between rows of corn, I kept making silly faces at Lissie, trying to make her laugh. Whenever Lissie began giggling, Jessica looked over at me and I’d stop. By the time she’d giggled for three more hours and finished a plateful of chicken tenders, Lissie declared, “You’re silly, David.”
Over the course of the months since then, the bond tightened between Jessica and me, to the point we realized we needed to spend the rest of our lives together. Lissie was a tougher sell.
You can’t just tell a child to love you, and you can’t just say you love them. You have to show them every day with your concern for their welfare, your willingness to listen to them and your eagerness for them to succeed.
You can do all those things to the best of your ability and still remain just a familiar face in the child’s life, though.
When we announced our engagement to her family, one of Lissie’s cousins announced, “You’re getting a daddy, Lissie!” But to Lissie, I remained merely David.
Jessica and I vowed we would never force the daddy issue with Lissie. If she wanted to call me that special name we reserve for just one man in our lives, that would be wonderful. If she spent the rest of her life calling me by my given name, that was fine too.
She started by calling me daddy behind my back at her day care. She would talk about how her mommy or her daddy would pick her up from “school” that day. She would talk about where her mommy and daddy took her that weekend or what fun she had playing with them.
To my face, though, I remained David to her. As each day passed, I longed to hear that term more and more. I finally did when I expected those words the least.
With family throughout the area, we spend many weekend nights driving home after her bedtime. I’ll usually carry her up to her room and put her to sleep once she falls deep asleep on us.
Like I always had, I lifted her out of the car and put her small chin on my shoulder. Her arms wrapped around my neck a little tighter than usual as I walked her in the house and up the stairs.
Before I laid her on her bed and pulled the Strawberry Shortcake blanket overtop her, she squeezed me tightly, looked at me with those little blue eyes and whispered, “I love you, Daddy.”
She’ll still go back and forth, calling me daddy when she’s appreciative or really wants some-thing or David when she wants to frustrate me. But I know deep inside what role she wants me to play in her life.
Some day soon, I hope to adopt Lissie so she can truly and legally be my daughter. Still, Sun-day marks my first Father’s Day.
It wasn’t my choice to be Lissie’s father; it was hers. It’s a gift I’ll continue to treasure for the rest of my days.