Butterfly Kisses by Bob Carlisle & Randy Thomas

father-and-daughter

Butterfly Kisses
There’s two things I know for sure.
She was sent here from heaven,
and she’s daddy’s little girl.
As I drop to my knees by her bed at night,
she talks to Jesus, and I close my eyes.
And I thank God for all of the joy in
my life, But most of all, for…

Butterfly kisses after bedtime prayer.
Stickin’ little white flowers all up in her hair.
“Walk beside the pony daddy,
it’s my first ride.”
“I know the cake looks funny,
daddy, but I sure tried.”
Oh, with all that I’ve done wrong,
I must have done something right
To deserve a hug every morning,
And butterfly kisses at night.

Sweet sixteen today,
She’s looking like her momma
a little more everyday.
One part woman, the other part girl.
To perfume and makeup,
form ribbons and curls.
Trying her wings out
in a great big world. But I remember…

Butterfly kisses after bedtime prayer.
Stickin’ little white flowers all up in her hair.
“You know how much I love you daddy,
But if you don’t mind,
I’m only going to kiss you on
the cheek this time.”
With all that I’ve done wrong
I must have done something right.
To deserve her love every morning,
And butterfly kisses at night.

All the precious time
Like the wind, the years go by
Precious butterfly
Spread your wings and fly

She’ll change her name today.
She’ll make a promise,
and I’ll give her away.
Standing in the bride room
just staring at her,
she asked me what I’m thinking,
and I said “I’m not sure,
I just feel like I’m losing my baby girl.”
Then she leaned over….and gave me….

Butterfly kisses, with her mama there
Sticking little flowers all up in her hair
“Walk me down the aisle, daddy,
it’s just about time.”
“Does my wedding gown look pretty, daddy?”
“Daddy, don’t cry.”
With all that I’ve done wrong,
I must have done something right
To deserve her love every morning,
And butterfly kisses
I couldn’t ask God for more, man, this is what love is
I know I’ve gotta let her go, but I’ll always remember
Every hug in the morning, and butterfly kisses…
Bob Carlisle & Randy Thomas

love-quotes-father-and-daughter

Daddy’s Girl
When you were young, pony-tailed,
face full of playful freckles,
were you a daddy’s girl?
I was. I still am.
Did you look to him for your security,
for love and attention,
for the understanding, and the patience you lacked
as a child?
My daddy was the center of my small world,
the focus of my affections,
the star that lit my life, shining bright.
Shining still in my heart.
The years have led me here,
weathered with maturity and responsibilities,
and I see more clearly now.
The hardships, burdens of love,
and all the small sacrifices he made for me,
for our family.
He created stability, a place to call home.
All the photographs I browse through
of a child long forgotten, scarcely remembered
smiling, so happy and so loved.
The mere thought of becoming that role model
is enough to send me cowering, afraid…
looking for guidance.
Turning to my father and my more for support,
advice, wise counsel, and for approval.
Grown up, I see differently now…
A new perspective of a man I have always known.
My heart is full, my emotions overpowering
just in the certainty of that bond.
He’s been there for me through all the conflicts
helping me over the rough, ragged stones of growing up.
My respect for him is unending,
faith is unbound, and love is unquestioning.
Even in the midst of all my imperfections, he is lenient,
ignoring the pitfalls, the downfalls, the shortcomings,
he just accepted me as I was, as I am.
The sheer purity of it leaves me awe-struck
and it lifts me up, it holds my head a little higher,
it keeps me in balance,
harmonizing with the world around me
beautifully, like an inspired masterpiece from the soul
of an honest man.
I am honored to know him, to love him, to be of him.
He’s my hero, and I am his daughter, his little girl.

My Dad’s Hands by David Kettler

Fathers-Day

My Dad’s Hands
Bedtime came, we were settling down,
I was holding one of my lads.
As I grasped him so tight, I saw a strange sight:
My hands. . .they looked like my dad’s!
I remember them well, those old gnarled hooks,
there was always a cracked nail or two.
And thanks to a hammer that strayed from its mark,
his thumb was a beautiful blue!
They were rough, I remember, incredibly tough,
as strong as a carpenter’s vice.
But holding a scared little boy at night,
they seemed to me awfully nice!
The sight of those hands – how impressive it was
in the eyes of his little boy.
Other dads’ hands were cleaner, it seemed
(the effects of their office employ).
I gave little thought in my formative years
of the reason for Dad’s raspy mitts:
The love in the toil, the dirt and the oil,
rusty plumbing that gave those hands fits!
Thinking back, misty-eyed, and thinking ahead,
when one day my time is done.
The torch of love in my own wrinkled hands
will pass on to the hands of my son.
I don’t mind the bruises, the scars here and there
or the hammer that just seemed to slip.
I want most of all when my son takes my hand,
to feel that love lies in the grip.
David Kettler

Fathers Can Be Solitary Mountains
Fathers can be solitary mountains,
All their love rock-like, steep, and strong.
Though warm and caring, somehow they belong
Halfway home to mothers’ bubbling fountains.
Each of us needs love that knows no quarter,
Reminding us of bonds that cross a border,
Strengthening our sense of right and wrong.
Author Unknown

Grandfathers Are Fathers Who Are Grand
Grandfathers are fathers who are grand,
Restoring the sense that our most precious things
Are those that do not change much over time.
No love of childhood is more sublime,
Demanding little, giving on demand,
Far more inclined than most to grant the wings
Allowing us to reach enchanted lands.
Though grandfathers must serve as second fathers,
Helping out with young and restless hearts,
Each has all the patience wisdom brings,
Remembering our passions more than others,
Soothing us with old and well-honed arts.
Author Unknown

My Dad
When I was just a tiny kid,
Do you remember when,
The time you kissed my bruises,
Or cleaned by soiled chin?

You scrambled for the balls I hit,
(Short-winded more than not,)
Yet, every time we’d play a game,
You praised the “outs” I caught.

It seems like only yesterday,
You wiped away my tears,
And late at night I called your name,
To chase away my fears.

Though time has changed your handsome grip,
Your hair is snowy white,
You gait’s a little slower now,
Thick glasses help your sight.

Oh, do I thirst for years gone by,
To be that growing lad,
Re-living all of the memories,
Of growing with my dad.
Author Unknown