In today’s world, the measure of fatherhood is often cited as a statistic in parenthood as a spectator sport.
“My dad was there for every game.” “Dad came to every performance.”
Watching the little ones grow is a rewarding part of fatherhood, no doubt, especially when life is all promise, the path to a bright future is smoothly paved, and the children shine with a glow which casts light on the parents.
My dad is 85 years old. Was he there for every childhood event? Probably, at least a good share. My memory of childhood events is growing dim. But this I can recall. Dad was there every day. In the humdrum routine of daily family life, Dad was front and center. He still is.
Dad’s routines are all the more remarkable because his life habits have spanned more than eight decades.
Dad is a retired pastor. He was certainly capable of flowery prayer, prayer designed as much for an earthly audience as for God’s ears. But he was rarely so tempted.
To this day, Dad sits at the breakfast, lunch or dinner table—at home or in any restaurant. He waits for the food to be placed before each person. He bows his head, inviting others to do the same, and says the same grace said in many Lutheran homes.
Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest.
May these gifts to us be blessed. Amen.
The words never lose their meaning to us. I doubt they bore an infinite God. They are said with passion. In moments of crisis, they might even be repeated through tears.
Three times every day the family returns to its roots, our faith. Three times, every day, each family member of any generation, witnesses the priorities of our foreparents.
Some people on this Father’s Day, will praise their extraordinary fathers. My dad — he is just an every day father. That’s the best kind!