THREE WISHES from a WANNABE-DADDY'S-GIRL

If you haven't watched Three Wishes hosted by Amy Grant, Friday night is your last chance. This show has received critical acclaim, but because of its schedule placement viewership has not been what I think it could be. What a lot of people thought would be a cheesy show has turned out to be a powerful testimony of what the Body of Christ can be in each others' lives.

An episode aired about six weeks ago that propelled me into despair and gratitude.

A young small-town woman had gone to the big city to make it as a hair stylist to the stars. She met the man of her dreams, became pregnant, mohd left her, and she went home in disgrace. She had her baby, opened a hole-in-the-wall salon and tried to make penance.

Her wish was to have a shop in which she could really serve people, a place that she could offer a retreat. She wanted to make her family proud. She said her dad was a deacon and she had brought shame on him and the rest of her family. She wanted to undo that.

Her wish for a new shop was granted. They brought in a Hollywood hair stylist to spend the day with her. She was thrilled with it all.

But the show was not done. She was told to go down to the Baptist Church. When she walked in the church was full. Her father was standing behind the pulpit. She was led to sit down in the front pew. It was silent as her father started to speak.

He introduced her as his daughter and then looked at her and told her that he was proud of her. Told her that he had never been ashamed of her and that his little granddaughter (her daughter) was the greatest gift she had ever given him. He ended by telling her he loved her.

Every little girl's dream: Your daddy declaring his love for you in view of the world.

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My dad is a man of few words. Growing up the words I received were most often "backhanded compliments" or deflective humor. What I wanted was tender words that affirmed me and helped me to see myself. My dad didn't know how to speak that language.

I feel like I have been missing my dad my whole life. Until now.

Pete, Thad & I went back to Iowa for my Great Aunt Rae's 90th birthday. It was a hectic trip--everyone was sick, the weather was cold and chaos abounded. On our way home from the airport I listened to voicemail messages and one message made the hassles inconsequential:

I think I can type it here, verbatim:

Kirsten, this is your father. Just wanted to thank you for coming out, and tell you I love you . . . and the world is still flat. Goodbye.

The message took my breath away. My dad called me. He wasn't forced onto the phone during a call between my mom and me. He wasn't made to call me; he wasn't even at home when he made the call. Of his own volition, he picked up his cell phone, dialed my number, thanked me for coming out and told me that he loved me (and the world is still flat).

So I have a message for my dad:

Dad, this is your daughter. Just wanted to thank you for hosting us, and tell you I love you . . . and the world is beautiful. Goodbye.

"This world falls on me/With Dreams of Immortality/Everywhere I turn/All the Beauty just keeps shaking me." Indigo Girls