08.02.10
A Father’s Love
This evening, my wife had a good friend over to laugh, talk, and eat with. Though I am totally blessed to have my ezer kenegdo (See Genesis 2:18) here to be the primary point care taker for our son, I’m always super geeked to have some quality one-on-one Daddy-son time!
Unfortunately, shortly after dinner, our son began to fuss up a storm. Having the lead task of caring delegation (with no resistance mind you) to me for the evening, I valiantly rose to the occasion! I swooped up my boy with a single bound, and headed upstairs to remove him from the obviously distressing environment. (Mommy and friend were watching a harlequin-esque season finale together)
My boy rode the secure and safe steed he calls “gaaa” up the stairs. His head wedged face first into my arms, in that only Daddy knows how sort of comfortable position.
He quieted.
We proceeded to move to laying down next to one another for a few of his favorite short stories. “I Love You Through and Through” is one of his favorites. (Thank you Janet Ricord) We laid down together, side by side, and looked up at the books as I read.
It was magical.
Sure, my son is only 4 months old… but he understands these books. He gets it. His mind isn’t tainted with the so called “realness” of this surreal world. He hangs on my every word, as the single authority male he’s ever known. He depends on my strength for safety, and for solace. His eyes watch as I flip pages, and he stares at the illustrations as if they were living and breathing things too!
Shortly thereafter, my son began to fuss and cry again. This time at the top of his lungs! So loud, in fact, that Mommy paused her show (thank you DVR and Friend) and came upstairs to see if everything was okay. I assured her it was.
I am Daddy... I’ll make it okay.
I lifted my son from frustration and placed him into my comforting grip. We walked and bobbed and sang softly into his bedroom. I turned on soft piano worship baby music, and we danced and lullabied and worshiped together for a few moments. My son silencing with each and every piano tone and secure movement from me.
Again, he quieted.
I changed his diaper, applied the “night-time” lavender lotion, and put his pajamas on. A routine one might take for granted. … that is… until you experience the joys of fathering a baby. In this moment, he is completely helpless without my care. He needs me for every single function to live. To eat. To be cleaned. To burp. To grow!
A son needs his father to survive.
We settled down in “the chair” and glided our way into another book’s intrigue. The imaginative stimulation must have been overwhelming, because I could see my son’s eyes sagging as I read.
I placed the book down, and reached for his bottle. Gulp after mighty gulp, my man-child took this bottle down like a Labradoodle to a water dish in the Sahara Desert.
While my son consumed his meal, I began to speak BELIEF into him. I’m sure he understood, because he stared straight into my eyes while I was commanding truth and belief into his spirit.
“I love you with my all, my son.”
“I believe in you, my beloved son.”
“You have what it takes, son”
“I’m so proud of you, my boy.”
“You are Daddy’s pride and joy, son.”
“There is no action that will make me love you more or less, my son.”
“I love you conditionally”
“I delight in you, my son.”
“I will raise you to the best of my ability, and teach you what Christ has taught me. Then, I pray you decide to accept Christ as your personal Savior, my son.”
Over and over. Repeated statement of belief after repeated statement of belief.
Over and Over.
Over and Over.
Again and Again.
I repeated each of these phrases with passion and strength and masculinity. I spoke life into my boy, my son, my child.
I cried. (quietly)
Now I love my son, don’t get me wrong… but my tears were not his fault. I was reflecting on the love… the FATHERLY love that our Heavenly Father must have for us.
16"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son,[a] that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.
God loved us so much that He sacrificed His son!
His SON.
His baby boy.
And through our Heavenly Father’s love for us, we feel security. We feel solace. We receive anointed pride (not flesh driven). We feel our Father’s delight and embrace!
God must cry, frequently, when putting us down for bed. I cried because of OVERFLOWING LOVE AND JOY that I felt in that moment. I have to believe that God feels this every stinkin’ time He looks down at His kids… us!
Your Daddy is so proud of you.
Your Daddy takes delight in you.
Your Daddy loves you unconditionally.
Your Daddy loves you so much, that He sacrificed his one and only baby boy on a cross for you!
For YOU.
There is no action (good, bad, or otherwise) that will make your Daddy love you more. He loves you unconditionally.
There is no action (good, bad, or otherwise) that will make your Daddy love you LESS! He LOVES you unconditionally!
There is no person on this planet that has the capacity to love you as much as YOUR Daddy does. He’s crazy about you at levels no human can fathom.
Your Daddy so desperately wants you to need Him, so he can hold you in the crook of his arm and comfort you. Console you. Kiss you. Love on you.
There is nothing in this universe that can match the significance of a Father’s Love.
Romans 8:38-39 (New International Version)
38For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,[a] neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Thanks for not telling the world that it was me who made your son start screaming in protest to begin with :)
ReplyDeleteGreat blog post, and thanks again for the pizza and letting me hang out at your house last night. Our harlequin-esque show was a great excuse to get together :)