The love of my life.

Throughout the months of being on the World Race, you find out that you really seriously didn't need 65% of the things you brought. 

But on the flip side, you find yourself missing things that you never knew you would want so much out on the field.  

Each month our teams are partnered with a different ministry contact. Sometimes they're young, sometimes they're old, and sometimes they don't speak much English.

Across the board, they're wonderful. They love the Lord with all of their hearts, and treat us with the utmost love and care.  

But there are two contacts that, in my mind, stick out above the rest. And they both have the BEST names.

The first contact is the one we're paired with right now. His name is Pastor ChaCha. He's tall, he's strong, and when he preaches, it sort of feels like something is going to light on fire. 

The second contact was in Nepal, and that's a bit of an interesting story. We're actually not sure what his name was. All we know is that the two English speakers that were helping us, both referred to him as their 'father in law.' And before we knew it, it was too late to clarify his name, and so that's what we started calling him. Father in Law.

Neither Pastor ChaCha, nor Father in Law speak much English. And every once in awhile, communication is a bit dicey. 

But they share one incredibly important and beautiful trait. They both remind me of my dad.

They both have a strong stature, but the kindest faces you've ever seen. And when they smile, you felt like you are the most cherished child in the world. 

I mentioned before that I got incredibly sick while in Nepal. My greatest comfort that week was seeing Father in Law's concerned face every day, checking in on me, and begging to take me to the doctor. He reminded me so much of my dad, in a way that was seriously like chicken noodle soup to my heart.

A few of my teammates ended up feeling a bit sick this week, and Pastor ChaCha was the same way. He brought us food, checked in on us, and then tenderly took each of our hands before leaving, and in his adorable broken English, he wished us the sweetest of dreams.

When we said goodbye to Father in Law, I cried.

When I see Pastor ChaCha, kindly smiling at us, I get tears in my eyes, as I just want to throw my arms around him in a bear hug.

In planning on coming on the World Race, I thought that I'd be constantly battling homesickness. But that really hasn't been the case. I miss my friends and family, but that deep ache of homesickness has been mercifully absent. 

Until recently.

Last week as I was trying to fall asleep, I was lying in my tent, and staring up at the ceiling, and I began to cry. It wasn't a glistening tear; it was the cry of a little girl, with big, fat, alligator tears. 

Nothing was wrong. Nothing had changed... but that deep pain in the pit of my stomach had set in. 

I was homesick... but more than that, I missed my daddy. 

I don't know if I can categorically say that I'm a daddy's girl... because my mom and I share an incredible bond as well. Maybe I'm a 'both girl.'

But what I DO know is that I have an absolutely extraordinary dad.

My dad is the kind of man that gets along with anybody. He makes everyone feel at ease. He loves deeply and loves so well. He has the most tender of hearts, while also being a strong man of integrity and character.

My dad is respected by everyone he meets and is absolutely fantastic at his job.

But even more important to me is the fact that my dad gives the GREATEST hugs.

I don't know if he remembers this, but that's the first thing my mom fell for when she met him. She says that he would casually drape his arm over her shoulder when they would walk, and she felt so comforted and safe in his arms. 

That hasn't changed. That's one of my favorite things about my dad too.

My dad pursued my heart as a little girl in the best way. He looked at me like I was the most beautiful woman in the world (whether wearing a princess costume, a prom dress or something in between). He took me on dates and still does when I'm at home. He has shown me what it means to be loved unconditionally. 

When I was little, my dad would write notes to me and hide them in my lunch box. They were always scrawled on a napkin in gigantic, blue sharpie, and I loved them.

My dad spent many years being my voice of reason, especially on the issue of boys. He'd take me-and my broken heart- out on walks and allow me to go on about details that I just couldn't hammer out on my own. I've trusted his voice in my life forever... and I still do.

My dad is selfless. He is always the one to make midnight runs to the grocery store for medicine, last minute travel necessities, or a random kind of food that we just HAVE to have.  

For four years (oops... just kidding... five) my dad moved me in and out of dorms, sororities, and houses. He carried my stuff up and down three flights of stairs more times than I can count, and helped me make the sparse rooms into a home.

My dad's also my favorite person to talk to. I get my creativity from him. He comes up with the craziest ideas, plans, schemes, and round-about ways to do things. He's such a dreamer, and his ideas in my life have been irreplaceable. He was the BEST with science projects, school election speeches, internship cover letters and just about anything else.

My dad has always been my biggest fan. I was the lucky girl with the dad who was at every single recital, performance, game, and competition. I'm sure my dad knows more about dance, costumes, ballet, cheerleading, ice-skating, sororities, and journalism than he ever really wanted to... but he has always been my biggest supporter.

And so here I am. I'm 23 years old, and fully an adult. I'm a grown woman, and as I'm currently living in Africa, I feel like I'm pretty darn independent.

But every once in awhile, in the safety of the night, cuddled up in my bed... I find myself not wanting to be quite so grown up. With all of my heart I miss the days when my dad could fix everything. I miss knowing that no matter where I was, that I was protected, safe, and provided for because my strong, hero of a dad was just down the hall. 

Not enough can be said for the beauty of having a really fantastic dad. The kind of dad that chases spiders away, that checks under your bed for monsters and who subtly intimidates the men who chase after your heart.

We've been incredibly blessed to have even a hint of some dad figures out here on the field. Pastor ChaCha and Father in Law have protected us, loved us, and cared for us like fathers. 

But nothing can replace my dad. 

My dad has been the love of my life for 23 years, and I miss him. He's the greatest man I know. 

So dad, from my tent in Africa, I want you to know how much I love you. 

Daddy, I'll never stop needing you.

I'll never stop wanting you to make last minute grocery runs in the middle of the night, and I'll probably always be able to use an extra hand as I move in and out of houses.

I'll never stop wanting your voice of reason in my life or needing daily doses of your gigantic bear hugs. And I'll always love your little notes of encouragement- whether they're in my lunchbox or in my inbox.

 No matter how old I get, and no matter how far away I go, I'll never stop being your little girl.