Celebrating Father's Day
More than a few
There’s an evolutionary theory in society that has many wondering if you are going extinct.
But in many spaces, we see your need and significance.
Not for a woman’s or your kid’s currency but an active contributor in your family.
Provider, protector, leader, teacher, servant, positive influencer, difference maker.
A voice at the table that helps with balancing.
Focused, ambitious, resilient specimen.
The world has been unkind to you, some for reasons that are true.
But that should not devalue the gifts God instilled in you.
There are just some things you naturally know how to do.
And truly, I can say that I appreciate what you do.
Like grape is to wine without you there would be no mankind.
You’re often overlooked and taken for granted.
But Man of God you are NOT insignificant.
You are a beacon for boys,
Protector for girls,
Support for homes,
Tower for families,
Examples of love,
The key and hope for a better tomorrow!
To the men that make a positive difference,
I can honestly say, there are more than a few.
On this Father’s Day and everyday
Thanks for showing young men what they can become…who they should become.
Through father's eyes
My Father, who blesses me
Despite my faults and frailty
Who calms my fears
And calls me dear
Is so sincere
I love him!
For all the times he
From detriments of life
From financial ruin -
He's my treasure trove!
I love him!
Although at times I'm insincere
He never doubts my love, my care
So hopeful, he forgives
And gives me courage to press on.
He's such an admirable man!
I love him!
So now that I am grown and wise
I see life through my father's eyes
And try to parent like
Excusing tantrums of
Giving them benefit of
For as father says, "They'll work things out!"
He's so wise!
I just can't help but love him!
In honour of my father, Ronald Burgess
Losing a parent: the deep and utterly painful disconnect
A pause. A permanent pause. The clock has stopped ticking on life. Picture this. Uprooting a 100-year-old oak tree. With each root pulling away from the hardened soil comes a shudder, a shake and a violent separation which reverberates far beyond the root structure. So it is with losing a parent. At our biological, physiological and emotional core lies those roots which strike a chord in just about every area of our lives. While some of the roots may naturally die and fall away, many remain in place, bruised, hurt and peeling, subject to the healing sands of time. We are stripped of a protective coating which carried us for such a long time and which some may wish could carry us forever.
Memories, mixed emotions. They live on, serving as our portal to the past.
As uncomfortable, discombobulating and disruptive as this experience is, we are forcefully thrust onto a new path. One we must embark on, timidly or boldly, or moving between these states, living with a disconnect. As if reliving the toddler years of our life, we must gingerly learn to walk again, riding out the bumps and bruises as we fall and rise again. We must claim our healing out of the burnt ashes. Set a new vision, even a new direction if we must.
This disconnection with the past is akin to going offline. You will tinker with it for a while until a new pathway opens. The greater meaning of the experience may grab hold of you, or you may need to search for the meaning, finding it in your own time. In the meantime, grab your power tools. Silence. Meditation. Tears. Prayer. Laughter. Physical activity. Breathing. Talking. Forgiveness ... . Whatever serves and uplifts the human in you and prepares you for the new journey beckoning. Maybe it's best to build a bridge from the past to the present, one you can cross freely, taking what you need from the past into the present and making deposits for the future. The universal clock keeps on ticking, and as time marches on, hopefully you and I will build up reservoirs and bridges as we prepare to pass the baton on to Generation Next.
In memory of our dad Renford Gallimore
True fathers are as precious as the air we breathe.
They are not among the lot who spend their time,
Devoid of conscience, sowing seeds.
Then, like cowards, hide or turn their backs
Even before their willing roots emerge as tots!
True fathers, through their children, show their worth.
They readily wear their pants
And sometimes even don the proverbial skirt,
Just to build trust, hope, and wisdom
To help the children know their worth.
The responsibility of fatherhood is not an idle jest.
It’s not about the game of numbers
Or any flagrant beating of the chest
To declare – “That is my ‘youte’!”
When a child derives success!
A father’s day is every day for the man who cherishes his home!
He’s immune to all distractions.
He knows and plays his roles as
Teacher, preacher, leader, confidant and friend.
His ‘DAY’ is for a lifetime!
Then, when he transcends, his children, through their own lives,
Gratefully pay him homage.
So, fathers, who are fathers
Take a proud bow, if you will!
Then, let the Supreme Father guide you
As your myriad duties you fulfil!
Erica Brown Marriott