Growing up in the midwestern United States, I was taught to be a mans man, working hard, respecting everyone, and ultimately placing God first, family second, and work and everything else flowing from there. My father routinely taught me to get back up when I stumbled, rub some dirt on the scrapes and to rarely show emotion; for that could potentially reveal weakness. He imparted upon me that there were times when a man must drop the proverbial shield of emotionless adherence and cover ourselves with the cloak of emotion; those times were reserved for the times we were helping others or feeling great loss.

During the heat filled days of summer, while engaged in my final year as the elected Sheriff in Missouri, I recall my youngest daughter swiftly moving towards me. She had been playing with the latest gift she had received from a family member. You know, the gifts which are not so welcome, by us parents, due to the mass amount of work we have to put in to it to “help”. The gifts that our beloved family members bestow upon our kids as a sort of unspoken payback for some long before deed, deserving of the ultimate punishment. Those gifts which we accept with a smile but down deep inside we begin planning the ultimate revenge gift which can be given to their kids next Christmas.

As my girl got to where I was seated, she reached out and gave me a blue and pink, rope bracelet with the letters “DAD” affixed, with beads. “Let me see your hand” she said as she tied a series of knots on the string ensuring that the string was firmly attached to my wrist.She explained that I was the best and that her gift, the result of all her hard work, would remind me that she loved me.

As I gazed upon the brightly colored emblem of a seven year olds love and affection, I couldn’t help but think about how my wrist was beginning to resemble a 80’s hair band reject, adorned with brightly colored “bling”. My “dad band” had been one in a series of body adornments she had provided for her dear ol dad and my mind wondered to the fact that I would be returning to work, assuredly the subject of much ridicule from my co-workers.

At that moment I decided that what truly mattered was not conformity to some unwritten code or ensuring that I resembled everyone else but rather the love a child has for her father and his willingness to display the symbol of her love, regardless of the cost. In my child’s mind she gave me the ultimate expression of her love and my failing to display it would bring much disgrace. Did my friends look upon me with a devious smile, planning their next good hearted joke or action, absolutely. Did it matter in the scope of things, absolutely not.

Sometimes, bringing joy to others as they attempt to bring you blessings and brand you as their own is monumental. Showing them you appreciate their actions even though you may get a bit of good hearted ribbing is worth it. My daughter still checks, daily, to see if I am wearing my gift. Now, a year later, you will still find it on my wrist, a token of not only a daughters love but of a mans willingness to accept even the things which can bring him unease for the betterment of the whole tribe.

Although petite in nature, this little band has withstood the test of time and remains intact. Just as the bond is between parent and child. I have become accustomed to it and would be sad if I didn’t feel or see it. On my wrist. Be willing to step out of your comfort zone occasionally my friends. For when you do; you, as I have, will surely find calm in your moment of storm and happiness through letting down your walls of normality.