Big Daddy - A Father's Day Thought

My Father planned for my birth for a long time. He looked forward to that day with great anticipation. He longed for my arrival into his life and his family’s. I understand from him that my birth was a time of great joy. There was laughter, tears of joy, a moment that he said that he would never forget.

He taught me how to walk. Even when I stumbled and fell, he never grew impatient with me. He would just reach down and pick me up, brush me off and walk with me for a while. He knew that learning to walk would take time. He never seemed to be in a hurry to have me learn what I needed to learn.

He taught me how to talk. If you know my father, much of my vocabulary is like his. We often use the same words and often even think alike. People have said that when you hear me speak it is like hearing my father speaks. I count that as an extreme complement.

Early in my life, he showed an interest in the things I liked, baseball, the outdoors, and my love for hanging with friends. He encouraged me in those areas where I had potential. He often saw things in me that I did not see in myself. His interest was my eventual maturity and success.

My father always took good care of the family. We never lacked for food, clothing, shelter and the other necessities of life. Sometimes I was not satisfied and wanted more. Occasionally I was envious of others who seemed to have more, you know bigger and better. Now looking back, I appreciate exactly what he gave me.

We had a large family and I learned early that my father expected me to share. I sometimes resented the fact that he basically said that everything he had given to me really still belonged to him so that if my siblings needed it, I had to share! It now seems silly how I would sometimes hide stuff so my family would not know about it. I could enjoy it in secret! Dad seemed to always know when I was doing that and would expose me and sometimes even take away things he had given to me until I learned the principle of sharing.

It was amazing how my father reacted when I was angry. It was as if he had been there and knew how I felt. He always showed me constructive ways to channel my anger in a way that would do the least amount of damage and even perhaps do some good.

I learned early in my youth, that there was nothing off limits in terms of discussion. That was a little weird or strange at first to talk to him about things that I and my friends talked about. There was nothing that he could not handle, He was shockproof.

When I grew older and had questions about girls and sex, he always had good advice. Sometimes he would just listen and even was silent at times. Sometimes he would give me something to read that seemed to get to the heart of the matter and just said it like it needs to be said. Sometimes I could tell that he just wanted me to think a little longer on what I had said. Did I really mean it? Did it really matter at all?

We did a lot of laughing growing up. Joy and humor was just a part of who he was. He knew when to be serious and when to have a good time. It took me some time to mature and truly understand that.

When I grew a little older, other people began to offer me friendship, advice that tended to contradict what Dad had told me. Without knowing it, I was drawn away a little at times from the closeness that we once knew. I can never say that there was out right rebellion, but the potential was there. He let me drift. He did not chase after me, he did not impose his will on me, he just waited patiently and I am sure that he was just confident that I would come to my senses and realize that he was truly my best friend and had my best interests in mind. He never held it against me when I chose poorly.

My father really cared about things that would hurt me and so often we would talk about stuff that the culture would offer and the end of that choice. Sometimes it was hard to really feel that he cared about me. If often appeared to me that he was trying to spoil my fun. It did not sound like it was that bad. And so I would sometimes do exactly what he warned me not to do. And boy did I learn immediately what he meant. As frustrating as it was, dad was always, always, always right!

When the time came for me to make the most important decisions of my life, like who I should marry, what kind of career should I embark on, my father would give me just the right amount of advice. I never felt like he was telling me what to do. Together, he and I would discover the right choice for me. I know that he approves and is happy for those decisions.

My father loved me so much that anytime I had a legitimate need, he would provide for me the resources to meet that need. Sometimes he said no to a request or my whining, because he knew it was not a legitimate need. “NO” is a good word.

My dad taught me how to keep promises because he always kept his. I grew up knowing that he was a man of his word. He never promised me the world, but actually gave me great insight about the world through what he did promise. Most of his promises were contingent upon my own behavior. If you do this, I will do that. That was good because it taught me responsibility and the consequences of sowing and reaping.

I wished I could be face to face with my father today. I know it is impossible at this moment but soon I hope to be physically close again.

The quality of this unconditional love in my dad is what I cherish the most. I know that no matter what I do, he will love me. It is not because I am the perfect son, although one of my brothers was perfect, he loved me because I am his son! I was born his son.

Thank you dad, thank you abba father, thank you God the father!