Dimly Lit

Judging by the greeting cards, Father’s Day is like a Sabbath for many men, a day Dad puts his feet up. I think the Almighty was able to rest one day a week because he had just the two kids, only one of whom was male. I could really use a restful Father’s Day, but recently I found my sons huddled over a book on traps, which makes me fear that they’re planning for my gift to be something live. Already this spring they’ve captured a snake, a bullfrog and at least one deadly spider. While other men think about golfing or napping tomorrow, I’m praying I can weather the day without getting bitten.

And the youngest two boys are lately enamored of climbing onto furniture and blindsiding me with flying tackles. Father’s Day is going to be exhausting. But it will be good, because in the midst of these trials and joys I find my answer to the essential question on Father’s Day. What makes a good father? My sons.

Good stuff and oh so true. Read the whole thing.