Father's Day

Ah, Father's Day: the holiday that no one is quite sure how to celebrate.

Why is it that it's so hard for us to find ways to show appreciation for our dads? Maybe I'm overgeneralizing... I know that I'm always stumped, though. Gift-giving is near to impossible. My dad himself hardly ever has a wish-list (or even a single wish), so it's hard for me to find a tangible representation of the deep love and respect I have for him.

Maybe he'll like a new...tie?

How original.

Considering that my dad rarely never wears ties, even that old standby isn't an option. Fishing and hiking gear are usually the best bet, but even knowing that, I have no idea what to get unless he tells me exactly what he wants. And if I forget to ask... well, shoot. Maybe a gift card?

I'm not exactly admitting that I forgot to ask him this year (*evasive half-smile*)... Let's just say that I found myself perusing the card aisle at Target last night, hoping to find a semi-meaningful card in which to write something at least somewhat more meaningful so that I'd have something to give him today. This is my "old standby" gift: words. They may not cost much, if anything, but they're typically more meaningful than a tie or a new fishing reel would be.

This year, though, even the card aisle failed me. It seems that Father's Day has become nothing more than a day to recognize obese fishermen, beer-loving grill masters, and perpetual flatulence. (Oh, I almost forgot--- a nicely scrolled inscription of generalized mushy sentiments was occasionally thrown in there, too.)

Is this really what fatherhood has been reduced to in our society? Is the term "dad" limited to those men who, having made their contribution(s) to the gene pool, now perpetually take up their rightful place in the La-Z-Boy? Frankly, if this is part of the American dream, I want out.

You might have guessed this already, but I left Target empty-handed last night. I couldn't justify spending $4.59 on the "best" card I could find: "Thanks for the constant source of inspiration you have always been." While that statement may ring true, it doesn't really say anything; it certainly doesn't come close to expressing how incredibly blessed I am or how drastically changed my life would be if my father weren't the true dad that he is and always has been.

My dad may be a baseball coach, fisherman, handyman, and grill master (note here my subtle avoidance of the word "flatulence"), but his role as man and father is by no means defined and/or limited by his work and hobbies. He may have a favorite chair, and he certainly enjoys time alone up in the mountains, but he willingly and readily devotes time to me, my siblings, and my incredible mother.

Most importantly, my father loves Jesus. I am absolutely certain that I would not have the relationship I have with God-- my other Father-- if it weren't for the reflection of Him that I see in my dad on a daily basis. From the time I was little, he would start deep, biblical conversations that would, to many, seem beyond a child's comprehension. Perhaps they were at times. Perhaps, though, my dad has always known that certain aspects of God are best seen through children's eyes... (And how I wish I could still see more of this life with those eyes...) Those conversations still continue. Even the conversations and convictions would be meaningless, though, if they weren't lived out.

Recently, our church had a series on the definition of-- and recognition of-- a real man per God's descriptions and examples in the Bible. At the end of those few weeks, most of the men in this church were given contract of sorts: "The Thin Red Line." It reads like this:

As a man resolved to be the man that God created and intended me to be...

I WILL... Fix my eyes on Jesus.

I WILL... Love and honor and be faithful to my wife.

I WILL... Lead out in the training and instruction of my children.

I WILL... Teach my son.

I WILL... Protect my daughter.

I WILL... Forgive myself and others for the past.

With God's presence, power, and grace...

I WILL... Never, ever, ever give up, quite, resign, or surrender my God-given call to take responsibility for my own life and the lives of the people that God has entrusted to my care.

My dad not only signed the contract: he also kept it and framed it, and he put it where virtually everyone who sets foot in our home can see it. He is utterly in love with his Creator, he is actively reminding himself of the responsibility he has, and (as my entire family and most of his peers can attest to) he's doing everything he can to carry it out.

He may not be perfect, but he is one of the most incredible, godly men and fathers that I've ever had the privilege of meeting. The fact that he's my dad is honestly overwhelming at times... I am so blessed.

Thank you for who you are and all that you do, Daddy. I know I'll never be able to fully express that in words, but that doesn't mean that I won't keep trying to tell you. Thank for loving and honoring mom, and for being every bit the father to Chris, Angela, and Patrick as you are to me. Thank you for not only protecting me from other people and things, but also for teaching me how to recognize the most harmful parts of myself. Thank you for loving our family so well, and thank you for whole-heartedly pursuing Jesus, the only one who makes any of that possible.

Happy Father's Day. I love you.