The Dad Dispatch

If a hero is someone who makes a difference in someone’s life, then Sallie’s mine

By Mark Rawlston

Photo by Julie Hogue

Have I told you I never wanted to be a father? If I haven’t, I didn’t know you a few years ago.

My perception changed a little over seven years ago when my wife of 18 years, Gloria, told me we were expecting a child. I was excited by the news but was still unsure of exactly what we had gotten ourselves into.

Nothing in my life has ever driven such a jolt of fear through my spine as holding all 5 pounds, 12 ounces of Sallie Maria Rawlston in my hands for the first time on May 29, 2002. She was so small, so innocent and so dependent on us; I wasn’t sure we could handle the responsibility.

I had no doubts how good a mother Gloria would be; I worried I wouldn’t be a good enough dad. My job keeps me away often and preoccupies my mind at home. I wanted to be there to watch her grow up.

But as I eased into my new role of Dad, I had an epiphany: This Dad-thing wasn’t all that bad. Sallie was actually fun to be around. I’d heard lots of other fathers say the same thing, but I was always sure they were lying. It turns out they were telling me the Gospel truth.

I have watched and participated with amazement as our little girl has grown. I knew at some point she would be smarter than I am, but I never dreamed it would be at age 3. Now, I learn from her.

She teaches me charity as she gives away every dime she gets. She recognizes there are people and causes who need her money more than she does.

She teaches me the value of education when she tells me how much fun she had at school today and how much she loves to learn.

She teaches me acceptance as she tells me about her friends—all 6.75 billion of them. She has yet to meet anyone she doesn’t think is friend material.

She teaches me to enjoy great adventures as I watch her excitement over the prospect of any new experience. It reminds me of my own childhood adventures.

She teaches me compassion as I watch her bow her head and pray every time she hears of someone or something hurting or in trouble. It reminds me of how jaded I’ve become after more than 30 years in law enforcement.

She teaches me sacrifice when she tells me she only wants a couple of inexpensive toys for Christmas this year, so Santa has time to make presents for every girl and boy.

Of course, along with all the joys of fatherhood come those inevitable “hard lessons.” I know I need to teach her there are bad people, people in this world and in our community who mean to do harm. I dread changing her innocent perception, but I know it has to be done.

I know I have to teach her to protect herself online. She dearly loves educational websites for children. I sit with her and watch her on her computer and know that someday a predator will try to solicit her. I hope we have taught her to respond properly, and I pray for his sake that I never meet him.

I also know that one day the most dreaded event in a father’s life will come to pass. She will meet some unworthy boy whom she thinks is the greatest thing since sliced bread. All fathers know she will be wrong. I’ll need guidance to navigate that minefield. (I hope she chooses as wisely as her mother did 25 years ago.)

There will be bumps and bruises to come—some I can fix and others I can’t. There will be times all I can do is just be Dad and listen and be there for her when she needs me.

I look forward to watching her grow into whoever she will be. I want her childhood to be as good as mine was. I want to instill in her the knowledge that no matter what, she is still our little girl, and her mother and I will always love her.

For now, I’m happy with long bicycle rides, trips to see Mickey Mouse, and all the tickling she can stand. I look forward to new experiences. We’ll have many more thought-provoking discussions in the years to come. We’ll talk about things like how Santa makes it to all those houses in one night, why her puppy doesn’t always behave, and why it isn’t a good idea to carry tadpoles in her pocket.

Did I ever tell you how much fun being a dad is, or that I wouldn’t trade one minute of my time with Sallie for anything on earth? If not, I must not have spoken to you in the last seven years.