Sweet tea.

One of the greatest privileges in life is being the father of a daughter. Its hard to believe that my oldest daughter turns 18 this week. This is a letter I read to her at her 16th birthday party, updated for this occasion:

Sweet tea is a favorite drink of mine. There’s a saying that talks about the contradictions in the drink: the leaves are brewed hot and strong, then iced to make it cool and refreshing, lemons added to sour it, and then sugar to syrup it to the taste.

Sweet tea is a pet name for a favorite daughter of mine. She burst onto earth’s stage as a bold individual one afternoon, April of 1991, in Lynchburg, Virginia. Her nemesis brother couldn’t say “sister”, rather it came out “tister”, which a young playmate changed to just “t”. At some point I began to recognize her as my sweet tea.

I’ve watched her grow. She read early, talked from day one, but was slow to walk. She’d sit in the middle of the floor, one leg back, one leg forward, fountain of blond hair spouting up over a rubber band on top of her head, commanding the house. She too quickly became a bespectacled elementary girl, a smart reader, quick to join an adult conversation – or a debate, such as the battles we had over when she could get her ears pierced. I was no match for her and her mother. I should’ve known that was a taste of things to come. I still marvel over the paper she presented on “Why I Should Have My Own Cell Phone” by the “highly capable and responsible Carissa Willmington.” I never had a chance.

She has always been a traveler. She made her first trip overseas, to Israel while still a preschooler. A tour in England came later. As a middle schooler she joined me as I led our mission trip to Queens New York. Step for step she was with me, conquering Manhattan, navigating the subway. I could look over the sea of dark hair children at the VBS in the Filipino church where we worked, and see my blond beauty confidently leading the craft time. At night, I was so proud of her, watching her organize her clothes for the next day, and then lay down exhausted after a hard day of serving. She was so self-reliant.

And now, I watch her as a young woman. Caring with wisdom for the hurts of her friends, serving with her talents from the villages of Jamaica, to the Highway 92 programs at WRC, to the preschool children in the ELC, thinking about what she’ll do for college, or for life. The only weakness I see in her is her fondness for John Mayer, a guitar god, yes, but not my favorite human.

Daughter, as you make your 18th trip around the sun, here are my thoughts on you. You amaze me. I adore your reversible beauty – a loveliness that is inside-out. You’re a beauty worth pursuing and fighting for. Though I don’t deem any other man worthy of your attention, I know they will see this treasure also. You are growing in to the type of woman your mother is, and has modeled for you.

My wife and I pray deeply for you, and bless you with these, our family statements of mission:

May you glorify God by loving him, loving your family, and by loving others.
May you have a loving heart, a beautiful spirit, a wise mind, a pure body, and serving hands.

You have been brewed strong by God – be bold and unflinching for his kingdom.
You have been given a tartness in personality – capture people’s attention for God’s message.
You have been made sweet in spirit – let your words be honey that brings God’s joy to empty people.
You are filled with the cool living water – pour out that refreshment on parched lives.

And know this - You’ll always be my cup of tea.