This week my dad and I were featured on Baylor Proud. Both of us feel incredibly honored and blown away, and it was so unbelievable to see my dad's words in print. My dad has raised me on Baylor, brainwashing me when I was still in the womb. The article touches on that, but no amount of words can accurately describe my relationship with Baylor through my dad.
People who went to high school with me will tell you, I love Baylor. I talk about it incessantly. And I am not in any way sorry for that. My deep and overflowing love for this University comes from my dad. My dad was the first in my family to attend BU and was quickly followed by his sister and cousins. My dad was fiercely dedicated to the school, participated in Chamber and went on to Truett Seminary. I grew up knowing all the words to the That Good Old Baylor Line, owned several child-sized BU cheerleading outfits, and sic'emed in public like a real fan.
When I reached high school, the conversations with my dad about Baylor took on a new meaning. I was nearing application time, and my dad was careful not to pressure me, but deep down, we both knew I was unwaveringly a bear. Although I briefly explored other options and tried to consider other paths, I always ended up back at Baylor's website. I was head-over-heels for the university, and when I received my acceptance, I felt an indescribable completeness.
In the past year as I've experienced Baylor as an incoming freshman, I've had the unique experience to truly understand where my dad's passion comes from, and it has endeared me to him more than I thought possible. I thought I understood before, but I didn't. After my acceptance, I've started seeing my school through a new lens, the same lens my dad has seen it through for 25 years. I finally get it. This place is our haven, our home. Everything from the oak trees and the grass, to the river and the statues, glow with an otherworldly joy. Baylor is a wonderland, just like my dad always described.
When I was about 8 or 9, my dad held my hand and walked me around campus. He pointed to different buildings and locations and told me every story he knew, whether it was his own, or from a century before. A few years later, we walked around again, and he repeated the stories to me. I didn't mind. I could hear him talk about our place a million times. Now, when I walk around campus with my friends, I tend to share the same stories with them, trying to match my dad word for word.
Nothing can compare to being my dad's daughter. We are kindred spirits, he and I. We share our favorite place in the world. This week I will be leaving him to go home to Baylor. While I am more than anxious to get there, something deep down inside is absolutely broken to leave him. For 18 years, he has been my connection to BU. He has been my partner in crime, my road trip buddy, my fellow movie critic and music lover. He has understood me in ways no one else can, because we are just alike. There is no one on this planet I love the way I love him. So thank you, Dad, for constantly showing me the right way to go, for loving me unconditionally, and for instilling in me a passion for the place that will be a part of making me who I am. I adore you.
