Devotions

Daddy diligently pounded and clamped and bolted, putting finishing touches on our long-awaited swing set. I watched with eager anticipation.

“Now don’t go near it, honey, until I can get it anchored into the ground, okay?”

I looked at Daddy with innocent green eyes, and a winsome smile and nod that said, “Okay,” but really meant, “Okay I’ll try.”

My six-year-old mind could resist anything but temptation, especially when it involved my favorite sport, Swinging. No sooner had Daddy gone into the garage than I hopped on and within seconds was soaring so high my toes could almost touch the leafy tree branch.

Then, as if in slow motion, the large metal frame flipped into the air, sending the swing – and me – crashing to the ground.

I remember lying there on my back, the wind knocked out of me. I remember Daddy hovering over me, tenderly caring for me. I remember thinking how I deserved punishment for disobeying. I remember receiving a loving word from him instead, about why he wanted me to wait because he didn’t want me to get hurt.

And that’s about all I remember, about Daddy.

Little did I know that soon afterward Daddy would be gone from my life forever.

Today as I re-visit this most vivid memory of my father, I choke back the tears – tears of sadness and gladness. Sadness that I never really got to know him, and he never really got to know his little girl. Gladness, because this scene is such a beautiful picture of my Heavenly Father, who had stepped in as “Father to the fatherless” * for my sisters and me. I’m so thankful that the response of my daddy reflected that of my Lord.

Mindful too, that of all the memories I would want to keep hold of, it would be this one.

I wonder how many times over the years I have disregarded the wise and loving warnings of my Heavenly Father, yet found Him there for me. Not scolding, “What did I tell you!” Not leaving me alone to suffer the consequences of my disobedience. But hovering over me, tenderly caring for me, teaching me life’s harsh lessons with love’s gentle touch.

He is that kind of Father. How grateful I am to be His little girl.

* Psalm 68:5



	A Father’s Care Daddy diligently pounded and clamped and bolted, putting finishing touches on our long-awaited swing set. I watched with eager anticipation. “Now don’t go near it, honey, until I can get it anchored into the ground, okay?” I looked at Daddy with innocent green eyes, and a winsome smile and nod that said, “Okay,” but really meant, “Okay I’ll try.” My six-year-old mind could resist anything but temptation, especially when it involved my favorite sport, Swinging. No sooner had Daddy gone into the garage than I hopped on and within seconds was soaring so high my toes could almost touch the leafy tree branch. Then, as if in slow motion, the large metal frame flipped into the air, sending the swing – and me – crashing to the ground. I remember lying there on my back, the wind knocked out of me. I remember Daddy hovering over me, tenderly caring for me. I remember thinking how I deserved punishment for disobeying. I remember receiving a loving word from him instead, about why he wanted me to wait because he didn’t want me to get hurt. And that’s about all I remember, about Daddy. Little did I know that soon afterward Daddy would be gone from my life forever. Today as I re-visit this most vivid memory of my father, I choke back the tears – tears of sadness and gladness. Sadness that I never really got to know him, and he never really got to know his little girl. Gladness, because this scene is such a beautiful picture of my Heavenly Father, who had stepped in as “Father to the fatherless” * for my sisters and me. I’m so thankful that the response of my daddy reflected that of my Lord. Mindful too, that of all the memories I would want to keep hold of, it would be this one. I wonder how many times over the years I have disregarded the wise and loving warnings of my Heavenly Father, yet found Him there for me. Not scolding, “What did I tell you!” Not leaving me alone to suffer the consequences of my disobedience. But hovering over me, tenderly caring for me, teaching me life’s harsh lessons with love’s gentle touch. He is that kind of Father. How grateful I am to be His little girl. * Psalm 68:5 Copyright 2007

A Father’s Care