What I know about my Dad

Dads are different from normal human beings. There is no weakness inside of them. Their innermost being consists of iron and grit. They are hard, firm when the need arises, and they come equipped with a ‘Daddy’ voice that instantly instills fear, respect, obedience. . .but mostly fear.

Dads are hard workers. Their shoulders are broad, designed to carry the burdens of their obligations with ease. They rarely cry, for most of the moisture from their body is poured out in sweat. When they hurt, they lash out in anger. When their family hurts, it’s even worse.

Somehow, dads have managed to compress their brains, like a zip drive. Inside, they carry the wisdom of the universe, yet sometimes, their word processor fails and they are unable to communicate what is in their hearts.

Like the rest of their body, their hands are roughened by work and built to handle any task. Their grip is like steel, their touch hardened by callous’. Dads are big, and strong, and tough.

Except when it comes to their daughters.

When it comes to their daughters, dads are soft, pliable. Their heart is full of love, and their eyes shine with compassion. Dads are still tough when it comes to their daughters, but instead of a grip like steel, it is more like a firm hand cradling a fragile egg. Dads teach. Inspire. Instruct. They challenge their daughters to be all they can be, and they lift up, support them with their words. . .sometimes unspoken. Dads are heroes. They’re gentle giants no matter their size. They are a reflection of the Father, a symbol of His love.

Dads are different from normal human beings. They’re special. The word’s “I love you,” seem so inadequate, and yet we don’t tell them enough.

Dad, I love you. May your day be blessed.