Into the Fire

Many of us teenage girls gave their parents enough anxiety to last them a lifetime – without ever intending to be that girl who did. I loved my parents. In my eyes they were the best parents in the entire world. I still hold them that dear to my heart. They were the best for me. They made mistakes like every parent does but those they made were never without regret, and most of the time I didn't figure out they'd made any for a long, long time. 

Just yesterday evening I had to laugh at a memory of my dad and me when he was doing his best to help direct me to wherever it was I needed to go in life. He and mom sent me to the University of Washington where I concluded I'd had enough of school and didn't want any more of it. What I wanted was an adventure, bold and naive, so I talked a friend of mine into going to Europe. We went to work for a year and then left on a nearly 3-month trip to Great Britain and Europe. Indeed the adventure of a lifetime. 

So returning home, taking one more class at the UW, then floundering, not wanting to go back to work at retail, the time came where my dad sat me down on the hearth in the kitchen in front of the big brick fireplace and said, "Nicole," (and he only called me "Nicole" when he was dead serious), "What would you be if you could do anything in the world?" 

I gave his question about a 3-second evaluation and proudly proclaimed, "I'd be an actress." 

My dad, bless his kind heart, did not roll his eyes. Instead, after shedding the astonishment (I'm sure), replied calmly, "What else?" 

That right there – that serious but composed father of mine doing his best to maintain, made me laugh out loud at the memory of myself making impossible assertions to a dad who'd endured the depression, lost the tip of one finger in the copper mines, whose Mom left his family after his youngest brother was born, and who somehow through the God-given business-sense and virtually less than a junior high school education, was now an Executive Vice President of a retail chain. Made me laugh at my own incredulity and smug assertion.

But to answer his second question, I said, "I'd work at Longacres." 

And that, my friends, is how those over 30 years in horse racing all began. It's a fun memory. 

Father, you gave me wonderful parents who I loved deeply. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.