The Gift

 

It may have been my birthday. 

Or Christmas morning. I can't recall the occasion, but the moment is forever etched in the six-year-old recesses of my mind. For a family of modest means, receiving a brand-new anything was momentous. Receiving a new bike, earthshaking.

This particular day, as it turns out, was especially momentous in retrospect, for I received three life-changing gifts in one fell swoop:

• My very own first bicycle. 
• The ability to ride it by myself.  
• A life lesson from my dad that would forever steer the course of my life.

My first failure

The bike was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen besides my mother. I didn't know how to ride a bike but was determined to try. My step-grandfather, whom I barely knew, was visiting at the time with my blessed little Irish grandmother and offered to teach me. 

Having inherited the stature of Grandma Jean, I could barely even hold the bike. It felt like a tank. Granddad helped me board the beast and supported me while I got my feet situated. Breathlessly, I steeled myself for lift-off. 

The bike slowly rolled forward with Granddad walking beside me, firmly keeping me and the metal upright. Up and down the road we crawled. For the life of me, I couldn't keep the bike balanced on my own. Defeat reared its ugly head as Granddad began to tire.

Then Dad sauntered out the door.

My cool, disc-jockey father with the tight jeans, and wavy black hair strode confidently across the driveway. I adored him and believed he and Mom were invincible...especially together. 

Dad casually took over the reins. Relief washed over me. Granddad had tried, but Dad would know what to do. He always knew what to do.

I resolutely set my feet back on the pedals as Dad balanced the bike for relaunch. As before, we began rolling down the road, Dad holding me upright. 

He began to jog alongside the bike. We picked up speed until he was running with me. That was fun and a bit frightening. 

Then he gave me a push and let go.

He let go. Terror filled me. The act shocked me. 

Why did he do that? 

Panicked, I did the only thing that seemed reasonable at the moment. I pumped the pedals as fast as my my skinny legs would go. A few yards further, I realized I was actually upright and going forward under my own power. 

The fear left, blown away by elation.

My father accomplished what I couldn't do alone.

My dad was one of the most gentle men I've ever known. I would have trusted him with my life. His actions that day, though, seemed to contradict his nature and made me doubt him. His method appeared frightening, even reckless. He didn't explain himself. 

But he didn't have to. He saw what needed to be done and expected me to follow his lead. That sweet victory made it easier to trust in a greater Father and in His methods for the greater victories to come.

My beloved papa wasn't perfect, but he never made that claim. He just loved Jesus with his whole heart and loved his family unconditionally all the way to the end. He taught my brother and I to love God. He let us make mistakes growing up, learn how to accept the falls in life, and he never once let us go when crisis hit. He gave us everything he had, the greatest of which was his legacy of grace.

Today's dads have a hard row to hoe.

My precious husband of over fifty years, the father of our five children, is cast from the same mold. I watch with awe at how much he loves his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. He cares for them; weeps for them; prays for them; gives toward their welfare without hesitation. As my mother would have said, he has a hard row to hoe. But he is always in his garden. 

Today's concept of fatherhood is tarnished by the shifting of cultural norms, family breakdowns, and the never-ending attacks from the enemy of our souls. Families are crumbling under the strain. Parents are broken. Children are hopeless.

Our Father in heaven sees it all, and He is hurting. He loves us desperately and longs for relationship with us. He watches the road for the prodigal's return and runs out to meet him. His methods of teaching us how to navigate life may be misunderstood, but He is worth trusting for the victory He relentlessly pushes us toward. Our earthly fathers, shadows of the Everlasting Reality, may not get it all right. 

But they deserve respect and love for the trying. Thank them for that. Lavish grace upon them...the same grace you want for yourself. 

 Happy Father's Day, Dads. You're the best. God bless you.