I’ve worked my current job for thirteen years. Before that I served twenty years in the United States Air Force. Aside from those occupations, I’ve had one ‘job’ that is more important than any other; the ‘job’ of father. Although it has not really been a “job” in the traditional sense; it does pay benefits in return for one’s hard work and dedication. Marlene Dietrich said, “A king, realizing his incompetence, can either delegate or abdicate his duties. A father can do neither.” Nor would I have done either, if given those choices.
No one is a perfect father, except our Heavenly Father. Every man starts the job as a novice and NEVER achieves Master Craftsman status. But we owe it to our children to try.
My father tried, as have I.
Proverbs 4:1-5, gives some advice to sons of fathers; having been both, I can attest to the validity of these words: “1.) Listen, my sons, to a father’s instruction; pay attention and gain understanding. 2.) I give you sound learning, so do not forsake my teaching. 3.) For I too was a son to my father, still tender, and cherished by my mother. 4.) Then he taught me, and he said to me, ‘Take hold of my words with all your heart; keep my commands, and you will live. 5.) Get wisdom, get understanding, do not forget my words or turn away from them.”’
In keeping with today’s topic, I’d also like to share a poem that I wrote about my own father. I hope you enjoy it!
Where Is My Father?
Sometimes I see his hands,
where a briar scratch may seep,
red against his dark brown skin.
Sometimes I hear him speak; his voice deep.
Saying something, I’ve heard him say, time and again.
Sometimes I can smell old spice or Brut by Faberge’
Sometimes I see his children; staring at him fascinated
by some seemingly impossible thing he has done that day.
Sometimes I see his arms; strong muscles animated.
Sometimes I see his eyes; the same today as yesterday.
IN THE MIRROR! I see; those eyes belong to me.
I look at my hands with that same skin.
I smell the cologne that a child gifted with glee.
And when I speak I hear his voice in mine.
Those children are my children, anachronistically.
Then I thank God for having had him.
And I thank him for the legacy he left me and them.
Happy Father’s Day !