I received a great Father’s Day text from
my youngest so to start the day. Cailyn
was playing in a softball tournament in Spring, so they were gone for the day.
We stopped to get donuts on the way to
church as usual. But something happened
there that really surprised me. I got
the last of the glazed donuts. In fact I
had to mix one of our dozens with little baby cinnamon rolls and two sugary
donuts. The odd part was that they
didn’t offer to make some fresh like they usually do. They even told the lady behind me that they
had no glazed … period. Guess they were
running way behind or something.
We had a really big day at church
attendance-wise. Seventy plus. Lots of Daddy visitors. One was a pastor and his family from Wyoming
in town to celebrate his wife’s parents’ 50th wedding
anniversary. There was another family
from El Paso, along with the usual weekend crowd from Houston and its
environs. Jim had all the Littles come
to the front and join the praise team in singing “This Little Light of Mine.” After church a 70 year old guy stopped me to
say he hasn’t sung that song in 60 years.
Sounds like a remarkably sweet memory, doesn’t it? Well, he hastened to explain that he actually
remembered the last time he sang the song 60 years before. He was ten years old, and he remembered his
Sunday School teacher’s name who led them in singing as they sat in those
little wooden chairs. Thanks for the memories,
Jim.
My oldest son and his family were waiting
for us at the house when we got home after dinner on the grounds. They came over to watch the Astros game – er –
I mean to spend Fathers’ Day with us.
The Astros didn’t have such a good game, but it was good to have the
company. We ended up grilling some
burgers and hot dogs after the game.
Nathan called on his way home from the tournament. Cailyn’s team lost their last game 8-7. So close.
He said he wanted to at least say Happy Father’s Day and hear my voice. He was not practicing being romantic or anything. I’m pretty sure he was just making sure I’m
not dead yet. While I was talking to him
I got a text from his lovely wife April wishing me a Happy Fathers’ Day as
well.
My middle son called later in the afternoon
before his own Fathers’ Day outing in the park.
Luke was ready to play some baseball, then soccer. The older two were probably down for some
basketball. They were engrossed in
basketball video game, so they could transfer the energy to real life. AnnaGrace would be happy to be alive and
around her Daddy. It sounded like Josh
had an active afternoon ahead.
Oh, I forgot to mention my Fathers’ Day
gift from Noa. She drew me a
picture. Pretty good, actually. Stick figures of me and her. Mine had a beard, of course. We were standing next to a barn “on a farm,”
as she informed me. I could tell that
right away because of the cow next to the barn (udders and all). I also
recognized the yellow straw strewn about the ground and the blue in the sky. It has made its way to the friendly confines
of the fridge door. Well done, Noa.
Luke 11:13 says, “If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your
children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to
those who ask him.”
Father, thank you for those three boys of
mine who made me a Dad. And for those
kids of theirs who kept the legacy going.
Keep them all in your hands. Amen.
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