My senior year of high school, a newspaper reporter called our house to interview my dad about my track season. When he asked my dad what it would mean to him if I won the state track meet in my two hurdling events, my dad said, “We delight in Sarah whether she wins or not.”
I have always known my dad’s delight in me. I knew it when I was five-years-old and he laughed uproariously at my childish jokes. I knew it when I was in sixth grade and he prayed with me before every track meet. I knew it when he drove me 15 hours to my college in California, the sunroof open to the starry sky above us. I knew it when I told him I had been accepted into my dream graduate program in philosophy and his “That is absolutely wonderful!” skipped across the room with joy. And I knew it when I got sick and was no longer able to run fast, or pursue degrees, or even carry a full-time job, and his eyes still lit up when he saw me.
When I was empty, weak, and unimpressive, with little to offer the world, my dad delighted in me. His delight helps me understand the heart of Father God, who rejoices in us when we have nothing to give Him but our tender, broken hearts.
Thank you, Dad, for using your life to point me to the heart of God.
I love you.
Happy Father's Day, Daddio!
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© by scj