Fathers Day Commerial

I am thankful for the many excellent fathers out there and the many who challenge us to do better.  I certainly never have  been the perfect father- but I do enjoy the many messages and sermons I hear this time of year and the many role models I had/have. I look forward to hearing our pastor this morning. I have shared many of my favorite videos on fathers this past week- It does not matter what my father was or was not- he was good and faithful- not perfect, but that is all God expect of us fathers. And with God's help and the Bible, we can set the example he set  for us to follow.

What is a Father?

A father is a thing that is forced to endure childbirth, without an anesthetic.

A father is a thing that growls when it feels good–and laughs loud when it’s scared half to death.

A father never feels entirely worthy of worship in his child’s eyes. He never is quite the hero his daughter thinks, never quite the man his son believes him to be. This worries him, sometimes, so he works too hard to try and smooth the rough places in the road for those of his own who will follow him.

A father is a thing that gets very angry when school grades aren’t as good as he thinks they should be. He scolds his son although he knows it’s the teacher’s fault.

Fathers grow old faster than other people. And while mothers can cry where it shows, fathers stand there and beam outside–and die inside. Fathers have very stout hearts, so they have to be broken sometimes or no one would know what is inside. Fathers give daughters away to other men who aren’t nearly good enough so they can have grandchildren who are smarter than anybody’s. Fathers fight dragons almost daily. They hurry away from the breakfast table, off to the arena which is sometimes called an office or a workshop - where they tackle the dragon with three heads: Weariness, Work and Monotony.

Knights in shining armor.

Fathers make bets with insurance companies about who will live the longest. Though they know the odds, they keep right on betting. Even as the odds get higher and higher, they keep right on betting more and more.

And one day they lose.

But fathers enjoy an earthly immortality and the bet is paid off to the part of him he leaves behind.

I don’t know where fathers go when they die. But I have an idea that after a good rest, he won’t be happy unless there is work to do. He won’t just sit on a cloud and wait for the girl he’s loved and the children she bore. He’ll be busy there, too - oiling the gates, smoothing the way.



The little girl was sitting in her grandfather's lap as he read her a story. From time to time, she would take her eye's off the book and reach up to touch his wrinkled cheek. By and by she was alternately stroking her own cheek, then his again.
Finally she spoke, "Granddaddy, did God make you?"
"Yes, sweetheart" he answered, "God made me a long time ago."
"Oh she said," then "Granddaddy, did God make me too?"
"Yes, indeed honey" he assured her. "God made you just a little while ago."
"Oh" she said. Feeling their respective faces again, she observed, "God's getting better at it now isn't he?"