Not that long ago, my two teenage daughters and I headed out for a father-daughter weekend camp. I knew it would be awesome. What I didn’t know was how much I would learn from my time with them.
The rain has picked up and lightning flashes across the darkening sky forming momentary webs of light that stretch across the expanse of the Indiana sky above us. Our van shakes as we zoom down the expressway. With each thunder clap my 14-year-old daughter jumps in the passenger seat. Eventually she reaches across the center space between my seat and hers, and clutches my hand. She squeezes tightly. Even at 14. She’s been running to my lap or reaching for my hand during storms or scary movies since she learned to walk.