I can’t be home on Father’s Day this year, or next year for that matter. We talked about the Biblical Patriarchy in church today (Abraham, Issac, and Jacob, and the lineage they left for the Israelite people), and one line really stuck with me from the sermon: “For some people, Father’s Day brings an immense amount of joy, because our fathers loved us so incredibly much and did everything they could to provide for us. And Father’s Day is a happy day, because fathers are important. And for some people, Father’s joy is a day of remembering the pain we felt when our fathers left, when they told us or treated us like they didn’t care or like we weren’t worth it. And Father’s Day is a sad day, because fathers are important.” I have been so blessed to grow up under the roof and guidance of a father who has constantly sought God on both the good days and the very, very bad days. I did nothing to deserve this gift, and this understanding solidifies in my mind when I spend time with friends and children who don’t have father figures, as I’ve done quite a bit lately at my practicum and volunteering. All I can do is thank God for this gift, and for being the ultimate Good Father… And pray about how I can love on His children who don’t have a good father, or a father at all. With that being said, here are some thoughts I started connecting last Wednesday.
I don’t understand how children can give you hope and break your heart all at the same time. This past Wednesday, I spent 10 hours with children under the age of 12, and it was exhausting. But it was also wonderful. I started volunteering at the Boys and Girls Club to help me fulfill some of my TESL hours, and when I got there, I just observed and didn’t really say much or talk to that many kids. But once the kids realized that I was there for a while and was going to be coming back, they started talking to me and opening up to me. And then came countless requests for a partner in basketball and volleyball and for someone to be “It” for a game (or five) of tag and everything in between. I played tag for an hour and a half straight. And I loved it.
I bonded so quickly to these little children who I had never even met before Wednesday, and it broke my heart when they left to go home because I knew that not all of them were going home to very good family situations. I fell in love with these children, and all I want is for them to be able to go home and be around people and in an environment where they are constantly told that they are loved and precious and where they are constantly cared for and snuggled and treated like princes and princesses and where they are nothing less than treasured. And I know so many of them don’t feel like that. I know so many of them go home to a house where their parent or parents barely acknowledge their existence, where they are the reason for the problems, where they sit up in their rooms and watch TV and are constantly pushed to the side because other family members have more pressing needs than they do. And I want to take all of these kids home with me, which I know would be a terrible idea, but I just want them to know that they’re loved. I want them to know true Fatherly love; the kind that can only be supplied by the Good, Good Father that we have in the Lord. I long for them to know what it means to be delighted in. And not just the way that I delight in seeing them smile when we play basketball or when I catch them in tag, but the delight that only comes from God. I long for them to know that. I long for them to be full of True childlike joy, and I know some of their lives are anything but joyful. These children are gifts. The way their giggles fill a room is nothing less than a gift from the Lord. I know I can’t take them home, and I know that I’m only spending twenty hours with them. But my prayer is that these Chaco-clad feet never tire of playing tag with God’s little ones. My prayer is that, for the few minutes or hours that I interact with these little children, that they see God’s love and life pouring through me. I’m no father. And I know that I cannot supply all of their needs or find them better parents or give them the lives that they deserve. But I can love, and I can suffer a few blisters from playing tag for hours at a time, and I can pray.
|| oh Lord, you call the little children to you. take these children, Father, and tell them that they are loved when those around them are telling them anything and everything but that. speak to them in ways that their little hearts understand, in ways that are uniquely God, and love them in a world that is so hateful, so unloving, especially to children. you love your little ones, God, so much more than any human could love them. thank you for being the only Father that will never let us down, that will never hurt us or harm us, the only Father whose truest desire is for us to have a deep relationship with you. bring your kingdom to these children, God. thank you for using us to help accomplish your will on earth. you are the Good, Good Father… it’s who you are, and we’re loved by you. ||
