I’ve been overwhelmed this week with flashbacks to Fathers’ Day (and Mothers’ Day) in the years I was serving a local church.
The major expectations.
The stories no one else knew.
The family that lost a son to AIDS.
The folks longing to be parents.
The families going through divorce.
The parents whose kids had huge physical and mental health challenges.
There just aren’t enough Hallmark cards in the world to make all the pain better on days when everything is supposed to be all warm and cozy.
I miss my dad.
I’m grateful to Bill.
And I’m delighted by my kids.
Here’s one of my favorite images of my kid the dad…
Dave, seated in the yoga pose known as full lotus on the living room floor, half buried in a mound of tiny, ruffly, mostly pink clothes.
Stain stick in his hand, filling us in on Vet School while pre-treating a load of little girls’ laundry. Just a normal day.
I started teaching him laundry when he was about 10 years old. There were some bumps along the way!
The body of a ragg wool sweater that got notably smaller in the dryer (!) while the sleeves inexplicably stayed their original size.
A purple Sharpie marker that went through the washer and the dryer with a load of the only clothes he actually wore in 8th or 9th grade. (That took some serious fixing!)
The years when he stored his clean clothes under the bed and the shock when he asked for his own iron.
He grumbled, of course. A lot. He swore he was the only kid he knew who had to do his own wash.
And then there was the day he called from his first week in college, ranting about his roommate.
He doesn’t know how to do laundry! What was his mother thinking? I had to teach him to wash jeans!
A good day in Mom-world!
He’s more present, in many ways, than I was during the years when it was just the two of us. And, just between you and me, there are still times I wish I could change that.
For this moment, though, I just want to say that my kid is an absolutely splendid dad. My heart is full.
Statistically, the world wouldn’t have bet on things turning out this way for us. There is, however, always hope.
Hold it tight.
Whatever your stories, blessings for you and yours this day. Sue
PS – The ruby slippers have arrived and, on the bottom, they say, “You have the power to change the world.” We do!