When Elizabeth married and moved away, she left behind a book, Around the World in 2,000 Pictures. At the time, it appeared that flipping through the pages of that book and randomly pointing at a location was the only way I would ever see the world. Three destinations appealed to me the most: New York City, London and India.

The summer before I began high school, my dreams of travel began to come true. Elizabeth and her husband Chuck took Anna and me to the New York World’s Fair! We stayed across the river in New Jersey with my cousin Betty and her husband Bob in their lovely home. The next three mornings we got up early and rode the train into the city. Those were three of the most glorious days of my life! I fell in love with the big city and promised myself I would go back someday.

London enchanted me after I learned that Princess Margaret and I shared the same birthday. In my way of thinking, that almost made me a royal. I spent long hours devouring royal picture books.

My fascination with India led me to ask for (beg) the massive steamer trunk that Daddy’s step-mother had taken with her to India when she served as a missionary during the first decade of the twentieth century. The wood and metal (and extremely weighty) chest had been neglected for years in an area of our old farmhouse that was used for storage. Daddy entrusted it to me and I lovingly “restored” it with an avocado green antiquing kit (quite popular at the time) and tacked colorful fake-fur to the interior wood planks. (I would like to think that in the ensuing years my decorating I.Q. has been vastly refined.) The prized antique became my hope chest. 

All my sisters had begun attending a Christian boarding school in Kernersville (an hour’s drive away) when they were juniors in high school. It consisted of a four-year high school, a two-year junior college and a theology department (Bible School). I am not sure why I was allowed to enroll when I was only a freshman – but I was. My sister Anna (who was a senior) and I roomed together on the top floor of the two-story dormitory on the small campus nestled between pine trees and Interstate 40. Every Sunday afternoon, after lunch and a nap, Daddy would load us and our freshly laundered clothes into the car and drive the forty miles (it seemed much longer back then) for another week of educational and social pursuits. Ahem. I am sure I gave much more attention to the second category. Friday afternoons, Daddy would return to take us home for the weekend. He sacrificed his meager means and his scarce non-farming time to send us to Christian school; it was important to him. 

There is no way I would divulge – uh, bore you with – my high school antics. There are two events from my teen years that stand out to me and demonstrate Daddy’s kind and gentle nature.  

Since midway in my freshman year, I had been “going with” a young man who I was sure was destined to be my husband someday.  We were rather inseparable, until…the first week of our junior year. I was in the library waiting for my steady, when a new college student began flirting with me. Next thing I knew I had thrown the long-term relationship away and was “head over heels” for this new guy…for about four days. When I realized how stupid I had been, Howard (it’s just easier to call him by his name) realized how restricted he had been. My heart was broken. His was free. 

I had a plan. Anna was engaged to a young man she had met the year before when both were freshman in the junior college division. The wedding was scheduled for October, and Howard had already committed to being an usher – my usher – at Anna’s wedding. Surely that would be the perfect time to kiss and make-up. I was more excited about this prospect than I was about Anna’s wedding. Surely when Howard saw me in the green velvet made-of-honor gown which perfectly matched my eyes, and in such a romantic setting, he would realize our break-up had been a big mistake and we would pick up where we left off.

Except, not exactly…in fact, not at all. Would you believe Howard came to the wedding with a gorgeous blonde on his arm? Even though he was my usher for the wedding, it was obvious that he was her escort.

After the wedding, when the guests had departed, I stood peering out the small leaded glass window set into the massive wood door at the front of the church. Barely holding back the tears, my disappointment was palpable. I felt sad and lonely and empty. 

The church was quiet and I thought everyone had left. Then I heard footsteps on the stairs leading up from the church basement. When Daddy reached the top, he stopped, and, as was his nature, waited patiently for me to acknowledge his presence. I saw him out of the corner of my eye but continued to stare out the window. 

After a few moments Daddy gently interrupted the silence. “Did you and Howard get back together?” he asked, and I discerned true empathy in his voice.

I just shook my head and whispered, “No.”

“Then God has something better for you,” he assured. “It’s time for us to go home.” He turned and descended the stairs; I pulled myself together and followed him, with new hope in my heart. 

Another time that Daddy expressed his understanding father’s heart during a difficult situation occurred one year after I had completed high school. Not knowing quite what to do with my future, I decided to work for a while and save some money. Just a few weeks after graduation, I had begun my first job at an insurance company in Greensboro. 

Danny Darsch, the son of my guidance counselor in high school (yes, I spent a lot of time there) and I had become really close friends – not romantic – but it was fair to say we cared a great deal about each other. He was one year younger than me and now it was his turn to graduate. We decided to celebrate on the Saturday before his graduation. We spent the day together – par three golf , lunch, a movie (Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid) and a ride home through the country about eight that evening. It was still light outside when he walked me to the front door and gave me a peck on my cheek.

“I really enjoyed today, Danny. Thanks. See you at your graduation.”

Sunday morning we went to church as usual. Monday morning I was getting ready to go to work when Daddy called to me from the kitchen. 

I was not prepared. “Danny drowned at the lake yesterday.”

No…no…no. On, no. Danny had epilepsy, and evidently, he had a seizure while swimming and the guys that were with him didn’t notice…until it was too late.

Daddy prayed with me. Somehow, I went to work. That night he went with me to the viewing. He prayed with me. The next day he picked me up at work and accompanied me to the funeral. I don’t know what I would have done without his prayers and support during that time. It was the first time I had ever lost a close friend – someone my age – to death.

He seemed to know the right words to say – and not say; the right things to do and not do. He was always there for me – with prayers, words of wisdom, and lots of love.

Two years later, I was still seeking the future God had planned for me and that something better.I had enrolled in nursing school, but left after one semester when I was offered a job in a doctor’s office. The next fall, I decided I needed a change of scenery and moved to Anderson, South Carolina where Anna, her husband Ron and their twin baby daughters were now living. Ron was attending a Christian college, and I thought that might be the place for me. I worked nights as a technician in a hospital, attended college part-time, and became involved with a Bible study group. 

My sister Rodema had given me a brochure from Teen Challenge, the Christian drug rehabilitation ministry that David Wilkerson had established in Brooklyn, New York. There was a story about C.U.R.E. (College Urban Renewal Effort) Corps, a program for college students to gain hands-on experience with this ministry. An application was included. I filled it out and mailed it, asking God for His will but not really expecting anything to come of it. 

My desire to go to New York had never wavered. So when I received the letter inviting me to become a part of C.U.R.E. Corps, I fell to my knees and thanked God. Was this my something better? Daddy and Mama gave me their blessing. They even drove me to New Jersey, where we stayed with my cousin Betty. Daddy was not sure if he should drive in the city, so I arranged for the director of C.U.R.E Corps and his wife to pick me up – and take me away. 

None of us, I don’t think, realized that except for a few months the next spring, I would never live at home again – at least not as a young single woman. Just after Daddy and Mama prayed with me and said their good-byes, Daddy slipped a hand-written piece of paper into my hand. As I sat in the back seat of the car, with the majestic Verrazano Bridge – and a whole new world – before me, I carefully unfolded the note:

For a long time, I thought Daddy had written the poem just for me. It was still precious even when he told me he had copied it from a church magazine. (Let me give James Dillet Freeman the rightful credit for this lovely verse.)

But that did not matter – it was the sentiment expressed. It was a prayer and a blessing. I still have that piece of paper, torn from a memo pad and handwritten by Daddy. Years ago I placed it in a frame along with his photo. It now hangs on my bedroom wall; hardly a day goes by that I do not read those words.

J. Boyd Wright, you were such a good Daddy!