Happy Fathers Day to all you fine dads out there. We salute you!
The womb can be as fertile and willing as a freshly ploughed field during spring rains, but without seed, there is no life. In an age where people are quick to say we can choose our gender, I celebrate the men who embrace their masculinity, their life-giving abilities and their broad physical and metaphorical shoulders. It’s one thing to sow some seeds, another thing altogether to guard them, be heartily responsible for each one and create ideal conditions for them to thrive. Seeds that make men into dads are priceless and it’s no small calling to be entrusted with Fatherhood.
My dad was present. Full stop. He was at my birth although men in delivery rooms was not a common occurrence back then. Late afternoon games in the garden and rides on the motorbike, breakfasts and dinners, bath times, bedtimes and early morning cups of tea – he was around for it all; everyday. He watched every sports match he possibly could and invited us along on drives when he needed to go out and about. He didn’t trade time with his family for anything. I didn’t even know that some fathers are seldom around because mine was the guy consistently going under the water so that we could stand on his shoulders and get torpedoed into the deep end.
He and I have a phrase that we use when one of us needs the other or if a friend needs us: ‘It’s what we do.’ It’s our way of saying that life happens and we, unashamedly, depend on one another. My dad has always had strong bonds with others and he led his family in a way that showed us that community is key and that people are more important than property.
He made my first bed when I was a toddler and his bare hands made my children’s first beds. There is nothing he cannot do. A little sketch and a few specific requests and my dreams on paper have turned into reality. That reminds me, I need to find my wish list, no time for retirement around here, Dad. Let’s make some more things, you and me the royal we. I can make the coffee and pass you tools, hmmm, what do you think?
The first difficult word I ever remember saying with understanding was “transparent.” My dad loved to engage in conversation way over our heads and use big words to see how far we would attempt to be a part of it. Like a diamond big as a hand being held up to the light and closely inspected, light passing through unhindered to make rainbows, that’s my dad. Transparent.
So I knew how to choose myself a good man when the time came. The first time I ever saw him, a jolt of recognition buzzed through me like a pebble plopping ever so carefree into a glassy lake, plink. It wasn’t love at first sight, it was deeper than that; so deep that a solid friendship, a season of enjoying being chosen by one another and a long distance courtship all occurred before we, finally, made promises to one another before God and man. This was not only a good man standing in front of me making vows, but he would be the father of our children, and I knew he would be outstanding.
Do you know (a friend told me this once) that in the wild, male animals do not tolerate the offspring of other male animals. It’s all about securing the title and producing a bloodline. The mama lions are all like, “Aaaah, come, let me look after you lonely little cubs like my own,” and the King of the Jungle says, “Get out or die.” Well, not my man. His heart pumps big love and I have watched him take a baby sired by another man and say with his actions and words, “You are my beloved son in whom I am well pleased, don’t you ever forget that.” Behaviour like that changes the course of history.
We were driving along one evening in London many years ago, when we saw a man steal a lady’s phone. We drove up close beside her to check if she was okay and then my husband made intentional chase on that thief. I held my phone to his ear while he followed the scoundrel and told the police officer what we had seen and where we were. When the cop asked him if he still had the suspect in sight, he said that he did and offered to apprehend him…no worries about the children and I in the car. A man had been aggressive towards and stolen from a woman, stranger that she was, and my children’s daddy turned wild! That’s what good men do, they protect women whether they know them or not. And if they are fortunate, their children are buckled up in the back seat of the car watching how it’s done.
(The officer told him to stay in the car but keep watch, which we did, and it was very exciting when the flicking lights arrived minutes later and a certain house on the street got busted.)
This plain clothes policeman I am married to turns into a big bear after sun down when the work is all done for the day. He pumps up bike tyres and gives after-bath massages and lies around for children to sit on him and reads far too many bedtime stories according to me. I say no about something and he comes home and says it, absolutely, can be done. He seldom buys himself clothes but the children wear name brand footwear. He gets very little time for his own hobbies but if one of his sons and daughters shows interest in something, he is fully on board to make sure they have what they need to follow their dreams.
I’ve heard it said that the best thing a father can do for his children is love their mother and my love tank is full to the brim so I think we have a lot to be thankful for.
James 1 v 17: “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.”
Leave a Reply