Sunday, June 15, 2014


Today I drove Emma down to MDA camp.  We took some back roads this time since there were sections of road construction along our regular route.  As I passed by a small country cemetery on my left, a maroon sedan coming from the other direction was pulling into it.

"I bet they're putting flowers on their dad's grave, " I said to myself.  "I can't even do that because the grave is too far away."

I cried silently for a few minutes behind my sunglasses.

I miss him.  So much.  I'm blessed to have had him as long as I did, though.  (I was 31 when he died.)  And I'm so thankful that he and my mom worked on their marriage.  Dave and I have been married for 20 years now (yes, I was a child bride), so I know--and Dave especially knows--how hard marriage can be.  And how wonderful it can be, too.

Anyway, I'm deeply grateful that my parents worked at their relationship so I could have my dad in my life in a consistent way.  I saw several of my friends' lives, whose parents were divorced (or at best, their dads were apathetic), and they didn't have great relationships with their fathers.  And you know what?  It showed.  These friends of mine made poor, foolish choices.

I still see it today.  And it breaks my heart.

I can't thank God enough for Dave!  Yes, he's a great provider and all of that, but more importantly...he's available.  He's available to me, to the kids, and to the Lord.  I really love that guy.  I hope my kids realize how good they've got it.

Well, I'm just going to tell them how good they've got it.

The following is a quote from Dr. James Dobson's book Bringing Up Boys.  I think I've shared this before, but it's profound, so bear with me if it's familiar.

"Some years ago, executives of a greeting-card company decided to do something special for Mother's Day. They set up a table in a federal prison, inviting any inmate who so desired to send a free card to his mom. The lines were so long they had to make another trip to the factory to get more cards. Due to the success of the event, they decided to do the same thing on Father's Day, but this time no one came. Not one prisoner felt the need to send a card to his dad. Many had no idea who their dads even were. What a sobering illustration of a father's importance to his children."

My theory is that when a child has a father (or father figure) whom they respect, then that translates more easily into a respect for other authorities, such as: teachers, police officers, the law in general, and God.

Can I just say that I'm really glad I'm not a father?  That's a lot of pressure.

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