Skygirl and the Dreams of Flight

I dream of a retirement full of bike rides, hikes, helping my church, a little golf, spoiling grandkids and hanging out with my wife. My wife dreams of not having to get up every morning at 4:30 to be able to workout before a shift at the hospital. My youngest daughter dreams of posing for the cover of a magazine and walking the runway of a Paris fashion show.

My oldest daughter decided that jumping 13,000 feet from an airplane might be a good idea!

Now that she's 18, my princess decided to ask for the second time (once last year) if I'd offer my blessing for her to skydive. My feeling was "No way! Are you kidding?" Both my heart and head were in glorious, harmonious agreement on this sentiment. But then she said probably the only things that would EVER have gotten me to reconsider.

"Daddy, I've talked to our pastor about it."

"Even though I'm 18 and could do it anyway, I won't if you don't give your permission."

When your biggest goal in your life has been to raise your children the right way, these words simply melt your heart with pride and love. Let me be clear (which, ironically, is what Barack Obama always says before he tells ANOTHER lie!), but let me be clear anyway. I'm a total screw-up failure sometimes as a parent. On various occasions, I can be a pouty child, the king of over-reaction, a brought-to-life drama skit or a bit of a manipulator. But I've always worked hard as a team with my wife to raise our daughters to love Christ, respect adults and be good young ladies. This is one of those times where God said, "Damon and Tina, pretty decent job with the girls". Please note, it's 99% God's grace, and 1% us, so I'm not taking credit where it a'int due!

After doing a bit of investigation, having a few conversations, talking to our pastor myself, and doing a whole lotta praying, I consented and off she went with one of her best buddies, Nick. She went through a short lesson, strapped herself to an instructor, took a few deep breaths,.......and jumped!!! At this point, I would've showered the ground below with a colorful and astounding pee/poop fireworks display, followed by random clicking and gurgling noises, a massive aneurism, and finally become a 190-lb dead weight for the instructor to negotiate to the ground in preparation for my funeral.

But not Morgan, SHE LOVED IT!!! The free-fall lasted about a minute she thought, then the jerk of the parachute and the refocusing of her eyes on the ground. Wind gloriously ripped through her hair like a dog with it's head out the window of a freeway drive. Dots became colors, checkerboard farmland became easily defined red barns and grazing cattle, and the ground slowly came into focus. The only thing that got to her was all the dizzying steering that had to take place with the parachute. She's ready to do it again! Let me be clear, I'm NOT!

Now she has a story to tell her friends, kids and grandkids. A story of daredevil proportions that had to be inherited genetically from her mom, as her dad never possessed any gene that extended beyond the occasional zipline or rollercoaster. A lesson, though, has also been taught to me. It's a lesson I knew already, but needed to be reminded of.

God will protect us. He'll protect us because he loves us and wishes joy for each of our lives. For some, that joy is a quiet lemonade on the front porch or peaceful sunrise fishing on a secluded lake. For some it's a Paris fashion show or a day at Disney World. For some, it's yelling "Bonzai" and taking the ultimate leap of faith.