Ever since I was 10 years old I have loved Father’s Day.
My daddy died when I was two and when I was almost 10 I got a new dad when my mom remarried. I called him “Royce” at first, but it slowly morphed into “Dad”. Father’s Day no longer meant longingly watching other kids doing nice things for their “pop”.
When I got married a few days before “Father’s Day” it was my dad who was standing beside me as my best man. As I got older Father’s Day always meant a long call to dad who was always waiting near the phone.
Of course “Father’s Day” became infinitely more treasured when I became one myself. To hear the words “Papa” on the lips of my little blondie was one of life’s sweetest thrills. Her first cards to me were masterpieces meant for parental art museums.
So it may come as surprise that this Father’s Day will be met with sorrow mingled with smiles. You see, Father’s Day Came on May 13 this year. It was the day God came to get my Father. After I had sat prayerfully at his side for a couple of days and nights, the damage from an aneurysm of the aorta, finished his physical life. It was Father’s Day to step over, to go home, to transition into his Father’s presence.
We think of death as some dark thief strangling the air out of us as we fight to keep breathing. In some ways that’s true of death. But death is also a joyful messenger, announcing that our appointment with our King has come and the feast prepared in our honor is about to begin. Death is our day…our glorious day…our day to slip away from the chains of our physical existence and be free to be the immortal, perfected self we were created to be.
So this Father’s Day, I will thank my God, that my Father’s Day has finally, although much to soon to my liking, come!
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