buttered corn and good fathers

butterhead from Becca Groves on Vimeo.

I was raised hearing a story that my sister when she was really little sat next to Great Grandma Anders at a family picnic and Great Grandma kept buttering Annika's corn, and Annika kept licking it off. They did this for the entire meal and Great Grandma was so patient sneaking in her own bites from her plate between butterings.

Last night we watched a similar storyline, one generation later. Oh we laughed so hard. I wrote on instagram that I have a dream that one day my daughter will have her head carved in butter at the Minnesota State Fair. And that this surely puts us on the right track.

We had a great Father's Day. We went to church and the dad's were asked to stand and then the church was supposed to surround the fathers and pray for them. The way it worked out (thank goodness!), I was the only one who stood by Rory and when I went to pray I just cried and cried. I married Rory because I loved him and knew he was good stuff. But I hadn't really thought through to how he'd be as a dad. I was overwhelmed yesterday with how grateful and glad I feel that I married a guy who takes fatherhood so seriously. He is fully involved, his kids adore him, he keeps behavior boundaries in check and adds so much sanity and structure to our home. He is taking this responsibility seriously, teaching, guiding, loving and leading. And I just cried a wet mess onto his shoulder as my prayer of thanksgiving for this good guy. And he liked that prayer.

My mom and dad and Annika, Jedd, Mara, Sonna and Svea came for a picnic dinner and it was lovely. It was steamy when everyone arrived at 4, but continued to cool down into the evening. That's such a nice part of the day. We had a picnic, got out the bubble machine (the kid's picked out as Rory's father's day gift... greatly encouraged by their mom), ate two homemade strawberry pies, held kittens, gave garden tours and barn tours and played a few rounds of family kick ball.

I'm so grateful for my own father. I was telling him about how I was at a kid's birthday party on Saturday and knew everyone there with just one degree of separation. Either I knew them or we quickly found mutual friends from college or bible camp or my family. Dad is a connector, always meeting people, finding things (friends, home towns, cabin locations) in common and helping introduce new acquaintances to old. That's what he did every Sunday at church. He'd find the fun fact and then tell the visiting family, "Oh, you have to meet the Johnsons, they have a cabin in Spooner too!" and then introduce the families and move on to the next family. Even on Saturday night at my sister's huge summer party in her backyard, Rory commented that Dad just worked his way around the perimeter of the yard, visiting everyone, making sure he knew how they knew Annika. It really is a gift, and so important. He's a community builder and I love that about him and how I get to reap so much relationally from all the connections he has made throughout his life.

In light of all that we see on the news and read in the paper, it seems to me our greatest hope would be for more Rory's and Paul's, leading their families with intention, creating community and building relationships wherever they go.