Torrie turns 18 today. I wrote her this letter.

Dear Torrie,

Eighteen years ago today you came into my life and changed my world forever. It’s an understatement to say I was not prepared to be a father. I was only 19, roughly 2 years older than you are now, and barely even able to support your mom and I. In fact, I wasn’t able to at all.

I was working at KFC, probably making $5-6/hour, and we lived with Grandma & Grandpa Wieder. We drove a little Chevy Chevette that my mom had bought for me with my college fund. I had begun college at the local community college, but only finished 2 classes.

We had no money and we had no real plans. And now we had you.

I’m the baby of my family, so while your mom had experience with babies in her family, I had none. I didn’t have a clue about how things would change for me. Nothing teaches you how to swim better than being thrown into the pool! I can only hope I’ve done a satisfactory job.

I have great memories of those early years after you were born, ones you won’t have. I remember sitting in our room (in Grandma’s basement) playing Nintendo with you sitting on my lap. I remember working nights and Mom working days and me being tired…OH SO TIRED…and you’d sit for hours watching Aladdin while I napped on the floor. I remember being in King Sooper’s (the grocery store) and in the video section you saw a poster of Abu. You started yelling “Buddy! Buddy!” at the top of your lungs. For a while I called you Buddy, a nickname I’d hoped would stick, but never did.

I remember you getting burned by running into a hot dish without your shirt on as we ate Thanksgiving dinner at our apartment…on the coffee table…while watching a football game. I remember you falling face-first into that same coffee table and breaking your tooth. You always loved to tell people that you were getting Mom a napkin… I remember after Jon was born and you moved from a crib to a bed. You wouldn’t sleep in it, so I had to lay down with you. We’d both fall asleep together.

I remember the fear I had when we almost lost you the time you got sick at work with Grandma & Mom. I remember how small you looked in the hospital bed and how scary it was to see an IV in your head, covered with a Dixie cup so you wouldn’t pull it out.
I have other great memories you probably do remember, too. I remember taking you to Girl Scout camp. I remember going GeoCaching with you. I remember dance recitals and choir concerts. I remember family vacations and reunions. I remember bowling and teaching you to drive.

I remember you doing so many things with your life that I’d never tried…clubs and activities…trips to Holland…having tons of friends. I remember all of the guard trips.

It saddens me to see you grow up. I really miss those times and know we will never have them again. I hate that I’ve been unable to give you more or to spend more time with you. I fear that our time together will only get less and less, and that makes me hurt inside.

I’m grateful for all of these memories, however, and am blessed to have you in my life. You are a wonderful daughter, sister, friend, example, and overall person. You have a special spirit about you that draws good people to you. You have the ability to change the world for good, and I have no doubt in my mind that you will. You already have in so many ways.
There are so many things, looking back, that I wish I’d taught you while you were younger. It may be too late, but perhaps not. Most are things I was never taught, so I’ll pass them on to you.

• Pay your tithing first. It’s awful hard to start again if you stop, but if you never stop, you don’t have to worry about it.
• Spend less than you make. Most of my struggles today are because I’ve spent more than I make. The difference between spending $1 less than you make and $1 more than you make can be HUGE.
• Don’t borrow money. The long-term consequences are simply not worth it. Save up for what you want. Don’t put off what you want most for what you want now.
• Do work you enjoy. This will make a huge difference in your overall happiness.
• Never stop learning. What you learn tomorrow may open up new doors for you next week.
• Never lower your standards. You are a daughter of Heavenly Father and deserve nothing but the best. Don’t settle for anything less.
• Don’t allow others to mistreat you. They are not your friends.
• Study, don’t just read, your scriptures. There are countless lessons to be learned from studying.
• Be honest with others and with yourself.
• Make good choices
• Remember who you are.

I’m proud of you. I’m proud of the young woman you’ve grown to be. I’m proud to be your father.

I love you very much…much more than you can even imagine.