I talk a lot about my mom. We are very similar, with very similar ideas and attitudes. I’ve caught myself so many times that it isn’t even surprising anymore. It’s just who I am. She is forthright and fights for the underdog. She doesn’t take crap from anyone. In our household, she is the one most outsiders found intimidating. She is never overshadowed by other’s strengths, and I love that about her. I strive to be like her.
But with that being said, I don’t think I give enough credit to the ways I’m like my father. First of all, I’m his twin. So if the picture wasn’t enough reference, picture a taller version of me with a beard and a shaved head. That’s a fairly good starting point.
If you know enneagrams, my dad is a enneagram 5. I am a enneagram 6w5. This means we both love to be informed. We love to research, we both typically need time by ourselves, and we pretty frequently have very factual opinions. This makes for very interesting household discussions. Most of the time this includes clips from documentaries, news articles, biblical scriptures, and other sources deemed reliable. Google is a must at the Carter dinner table, but only if it’s a reliable source. I don’t think I know anyone else who is more willing to discuss hard topics on a factual basis, as much as I am, than he is.
With being consistently educated, typically comes humor. Very witty jokes are made frequently, along with potty humor. We both have a fairly smart sense of humor, but also really enjoy dumb jokes as well. If you’ve never made a 3rd grade level poop joke in the midst of a heated debate on history, I highly recommend it. My dad is the only person I know who I could do this with. Our bond over humor is so strong, I contemplated having our father daughter dance be a parody of a classic father daughter dance song. I am embarrassed to admit that I searched for several hours for a parody of Butterfly Kisses, because that is more true to our relationship than any sappy song there is.
I would also say my Dad is probably a w6, meaning he is very loyal. If you are on his team, you are on his team for life. He will do whatever it takes for you. For those that know him outside of our family, he is known to be a very funny man, with a big heart. He is a teacher, inside and outside of school, and has been for 24 plus years. He has taught, coached, rallied, and disciplined thousands of children. Through this, he has made dozens, if not hundreds, of life long bonds.
He has big ideals, mixed with big belly laughs. He is stubborn, but in a steadfast and sincere way. He will stand his ground to a fault, but is always willing to listen to the other side. In all honesty, I’ve probably seen more tearful “I’m sorry”s and prideful cries from my father than anyone else in my upbringing. When he thinks he’s right, you can’t change his mind. But if he realizes he’s wrong, you’ve never seen a more authentic apology. If you personally know him, you know he had a way with words, in a way that can make you cackle in a way you didn’t know you could, or feel emotions in a way you didn’t know possible. I also had the privilege of seeing almost every year of his marriage to my mom, a picture perfect view of how a husband should love his wife. It’s a beautiful thing, that I’ve taken for granted more times than I can count, to have parents who love each other so much, but their love story is for another time.
Unlike me, he is authentically kind all of the time. I try to be, I promise. But I am far more skeptical and untrusting. He would tell you that he is too, but he’s much more gracious with his kindness. Not just to me and my family, but to the outside world. He knows that in order to receive respect and kindness, you must give it first. When people say their dad would give you the shirt of his back, I usually laugh. Because mine actually would, and probably has.
It’s almost sickening how much he is loved by everyone around me. Friends from all walks of life have told me that they have always felt welcomed in his presence. I don’t think I realized how important that was until I was older.
In fact, I didn’t realize until much later the impact of some of the moments I witnessed first hand.
For instance, I grew up in a church with it’s own set of issues, as any church has. My seventh grade year was tumultuous for reasons a blog post cannot even explain. Our youth group went through...a lot to say the least, and my parents recognized this. It took very little time for them to come up with a way that they could provide some relief. As any parents at our church were aware, they knew the one place that always brought comfort to us: Dogwood Lodge.
For those outside of our church community, Dogwood Lodge is the epitome of what you picture when you think of a summer camp experience, but unlike most camps, this one is owned by the church, meaning church members get to plan the event, instead of sending their kids to a cookie cutter camp states away. But the sad reality was, in 2009, there was no camp planned for middle schoolers, meaning me and my friends wouldn’t have a getaway like everyone else.
Summer camp was set up in like this: A day camp for youngsters and an over night camp for the big kids. The high schoolers would be counselors for the kids, and adults would be there to supervise and make sure everything ran smoothly. So, for lack of a better words, 6th-8th grade kids were kind of left in the dust.
After what we had been through in 2009, this was not good enough for my parents, and definitely not good enough for my father, who had grown to love Dogwood as much as any church kid. The number of stories that the Dogwood squad could tell you about my dad from the last twenty years are in the hundreds, I’m sure.
In just a couple of months time, my parents helped to coordinate the first Youth Leadership Camp. No youth pastor, no worship leader, no curriculum, and a very small plan.
We were ecstatic.
My parents wrote bible studies, wrote discussions, led activities, and created crafts; many of these things on the spot. We spent a week having fun, learning about God and each other, and watching an R rated Christian scary movie (No. I’m not kidding. It exists. Sorry FBC parents! Ask your kids about House). I remember thinking then that they were so cool.
But the moment I truly remember seeing his compassion first hand. Remember how I said we’d been through a lot? Well, while I was dealing with emotions of the church climate, some of us had been through more than any of us knew.
The story goes like this:
Late one night, I and my girl friends snuck into the boys hallway to concoct a plan to prank the 6th grade girls. We were very sneaky, or so we thought. We laughed as we filled cups with water, gathered the fishing line to tie the door shut, and got all the shaving cream we could find to cover the door knobs. It took HOURS.
Around the time we were off to sneak to the other side, we noticed my dad sitting with a crying camper, and one of my life long friends.
We all scurried away thinking, “Well crap! We can’t sneak back now! They’ll see us!”
So we waited...
And waited...
And waited..
I finally confessed to my mom what was happening. She told us to stay put.
So we waited...
And waited...
And waited some more.
We waited there for two hours.
Finally, once the coast was clear, we went on to do the prank, with my parents knowledge, and possibly with their help, though I’m not sure about that.
We did get in trouble for being on the boys hall, and had to clean a 20 year old outside grill for our crimes, but it was worth it. I, personally, got in the most trouble since my parents were in charge, but I don’t remember regretting it, honestly. Especially when you consider that they were not mad about the prank, and laughed as I was covered in 20 year old rust and grease.
After camp, we went home with our handmade crafts and memories, with a little more joy than we’d felt in recent months. I think mom and dad left with a little more pride and hope than we’d all felt this time, as well.
While the prank was fun and my parents earned significant cool points this week, the important part of the story is the interaction with my dad and the camper, my friend. What I learned later, while we were waiting to do our silly prank, my dad was comforting a friend who had gotten into some trouble in the year before. They talked for two hours about forgiveness, consequences, and just all around grace. A decade later, and my friend still talks about how awesome my dad is. I cry, afterwards, almost everytime.
Just as with any turmoil, the pain we’d been feeling didn’t end after a week. It affected our family, specifically my dad, in ways that I’m not sure many people know. But he did recognize the thing that was most important to him: his family and his kids that loved him. Not his blood children. His kids.
The next year, my dad continued to be a youth camp leader. My friends still talk about how hilarious he is, but the ones that got to truly experience him at Dogwood, or in any other personal fashion, will also tell you that he made them cry the most sincere, heartfelt tears (Shout-out, ducks! You know who you are). Many will tell you he made them feel seen. The Dogwood Camp crew will tell you “Camp just isn’t camp without Jody“. And they’re right.
They all claim him, every child and every family. He’s theirs just as much as he is mine. He helped shape their faith, their confidence, and their sense of humanity, just like he did for me.
It took me 24 years to finally figured out the annomoly that is my dad. Because he’s is not just my dad. He’s a teacher, protector, servant, compassionate leader in his community. He is thousands of children’s, most now adults, dad. If he’s not your dad, he’s your brother. His friends claim me as their own, and have cheered on and helped Reed and I in countless ways. Even now, as he meets my friends as adults, he claims them as his own, and they love him just the same as those middle schoolers did in 2009.
I use to be a little bit jealous of all the people that got to claim him. He is MY dad, of course. But, that’s also not the kind of person he is, and I’m grateful for that. He spent just as much time pouring into his community as he did me. My dad was not absent, don’t get me wrong. He was there for every single milestone, and every single moment. But I have no doubt he has cheered on hundreds of people the way he’s cheered on me. It’s not only humbling, it’s the example I want to be. I wish I had the energy and passion to uplift everyone around me, the way he does.
He’s the kind of person who will sit with a stranger to talk about their life struggles. He’s the kind of person who will attend every funeral of any person he’s had a relationship with, ever. He’s the kind of person who will drive your friends to a comedy show in Atlanta, just because you all laughed together at one clip of the comedian, once. He’s the kind of person who will love all over babies during Sunday School, and simultaneously be checking in with members of the church about safety. He will jump in his truck to set up a shelter for tornado victims, while driving through the tornado warning himself. He will buy your friend’s baby shower gifts, just because they deserve love, too. He is very sentimental with a warm heart, very serious, but can flip that switch to dark humor if need be.
He may fight me point tooth and nail in a debate, but it is always because his belief is rooted in safety of all, grace for all, and love for all.
We may not agree on everything, but we do agree on the most important thing. God didn’t put us here to only love our family. He sent us here to love and comfort every single person in our path.
When I realized this, I realized I may not only be kind of like him. I may be just like him. When I try to figure out a way, any way, to help when my community is hurting. When I run to a friend in need, for no other reason than they need me. When I see all sides of an argument, while still not backing down from where I stand. When I research the best possible safety options for myself and others, in most situations. When we discuss issues, and I realize that though we’re saying it differently, we’re both usually on the same side (even if we both have too much pride to admit it). When he sits with you and friends for hours making jokes to deal with the struggles, or even just to pass time. When he makes friends with people who others may deem the little guy, because he never wants anyone to feel alone.
I may have gotten my ideals and mouth from my mom, but just maybe I got my heart from my dad.
So, yes, my dad is the funny guy. We’ve watched enough stand up and comedy for me to know that. His humor is one of the most prominent reasons people love him. But he’s so much more. They feel safe with him. They never feel judged or abandoned. They know he will be there when the world gets ugly, and boy, does it get ugly.
He’s had a hard job of raising soft hearted, independent, strong willed children, who have made so many mistakes. I sometimes thought my mom didn’t warn him enough of what her children would be like, but the truth is he did, because we’re just like him, too. The perfect combination of kind, strong, laid back, assertive, comedic, and serious, if I do say so myself.
So if you wonder why I won’t let up on my beliefs, or why I make jokes and silly faces to see you smile, or why I know both strange and pertinent facts about almost anything, just know it’s my dad’s fault. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I love my dad. If you don’t know him, I sure hope you get to.