Father’s Day 2024
Dear Dad,
I don’t remember much from my own little years but what I do remember is a presence. That presence was constant, strong, stable, loving. That presence was you. If I close my eyes I can still almost feel the strength and warmth of your embrace when I could sit and believe that everything was going to be OK and that nothing else existed as my world quit spinning out of control for that brief moment in time when I found my rest in your love.
As I aged, that presence shifted into a person. You provided a boundary for life and told me about God, our heavenly Father. You taught me that my rest could only truly be found in His presence but I’m not sure if I fully believed you at the time and I still leaned into you. You applauded me and chided me and embarrassed me and led me as you taught me what it means to grow up. You didn’t know it but some of the most powerful lessons you taught me were in the times you admitted that you messed up and I got to see repentance and faithful living in action. You ran beside me and, over time, you became my friend.
You walked me down the aisle and you gave me to another man, a man I knew how to pick because you had already shown me what a good man would look like. You told us of foundations and of how to build our own on the Rock. Your friendship in adulthood shifted things and I saw life in a new way. The love of a dad in adulthood is a beautiful thing. You held my babies and fed my toddlers and took them on rides around the land and I got to witness the glory of aging as generation speaks the works of God to generation again. You are dad, and you are pawpaw.
You taught me how to trust Jesus in everything, even if “everything” meant losing you. I don’t think you knew that’s what you were teaching me, but you did teach me that. You taught me that God is enough, in the lean and in the abundance and in the doubt and in the fear and in the joy and in the sorrow, God will always be enough and I shall not want. You, through your life, gave me a really good picture of what God is like which helps me to trust Him on my darkest of days.
Now, I face my first Father’s Day without you. I’m not sure how to do this — the grief, the loss, the pain, or the joy. I lean into the parts of God today that you taught me about: the warm embracing presence, the friendship, the solid Rock, and the sure knowledge that He is enough. By leaning on my heavenly Father I honor my earthly one as well. Life is a gift and yours is one I wish I had experienced longer — there will never be enough time. Faith is the evidence of things hoped for and hope, sure hope, that I will one day see you again is what gives me the strength to keep trusting, keep believing, keep mothering, keep putting one foot in front of the other, and keep waiting until the day that I see you again.
Forever your little girl,
Ellen
