I've been thinking today about fathers in my life. My own father has gone on to his reward, and I have shared memories about him here before. When he passed away, my father-in-law (Papaw) hugged me close, and said, "You're not fatherless. As long as I'm alive, you still have a daddy." But these two men, precious and dear as they are to me, are not the only fathers I have known.
Uncle Jim taught me a little bit about earning an honest dollar, hauling hay.
Uncle Hardy taught me the consequences of throwing pear cores at his old sow who had a litter of piglets and a terrible temper.
Uncle Grady taught us that jumping off the dock into a floating inner tube was not likely to be successful, but he let us try it any way.
Uncle J.P. played Grandpa's fiddle for us.
My daddy told me about his daddy, the farmer/preacher, and his twelve kids.
My grandmother told me about my granddaddy, who tied a rope to the churn handle and the other end to the porch swing so he could rock the twins to sleep while he churned.
Our sons, at play with our grandchildren, let us relive our own babies' little growin'.
My husband and our son prayed at the altar this morning during church.
I held hands with my husband, the father of our children, as we watched our grandson's baptism this morning.
Being a daddy is hard sometimes, especially when a child seems determined to take a wrong turning, and daddy has to watch his child stray.
Being a daddy is wonderful, especially when grown up children call home just to say Happy Father's Day.
So many men. So many different ways of fathering. Each an echo, a reflection, of our heavenly Father's love.
Papaw was right. I will never be fatherless, because the dear God and Father of us all is my father too.