When I became a father.
I cried. It was a little
embarrassing, standing there at the nursery window, the emotion of the birth
manifesting in tears of wonder and awe. I was truly surprised at my reaction.
When my next child was born in the same hospital. I didn't cry, for by that
time I was prepared for the overwhelming joy, fun and responsibility of being a
Dad.
Through the
years my eyes would tear again with the delight of accomplishment and pride as
I watched my three sons grow to be men and unfold their personalities and
become seekers of truths and then become Father’s themselves.
In the
dictionary the word "Father" is appropriately placed between two
words. "Fathead" and "Fathom"
I don't know
of any Father who doesn’t think he’s been a fathead once or twice in rearing
children.
"Fathom", as a noun, is a measure of
length, the span of two arms outstretched. The beginning of an embrace, the
healing affection of a hug and one of the nicest gifts a father can receive and
give for it acknowledges the equality of appreciation of one to the other.
Happy Fathers
Day.
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