THANK YOU, DAD

THANK YOU, DAD

I know that Father’s Day is over with and this blog may seem like it is too late, but it isn’t.

As wives, we need to teach our children to be appreciative to the Dads.

Of course they are, but do they EXPRESS it.

There are an array of occasions that our children can send their dads a card like his birthday, Christmas and etc.

In God’s word we are told to honor our fathers and mothers.

Ex.20:12 “Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee.”

This scripture implies that we more or less determine the length of our life according to our behavior.

This is exactly why it is important for us as wives to TEACH our children to honor their father.

I heard a sermon once that was really interesting on Ex.20:12.  The speaker said that you do not have to honor your father if he is a murderer, child molester, sexual pervert, abandons his children, is a batterer or into demonic satanic activity.  I am sure there are an array of other reasons but that needs to be addressed to God on an individual basis.

The following information is from an article that I read.  I think it is interesting some of the ideas that are pointed out.

The following comments are from an article called Ten Ways to Say “Thank you, Dad”, by Melinda L. Wentzel (melindawentzel.com)

She states that fathers are often unappreciated, largely misunderstood—an entire populace of men rarely acknowledged for the many and varied ways in which they contribute as parents.

Here is a list of items you might mention SPECIFICALLY the next time you talk or send a card to your dad.

Thanks for encouraging me to forge my own path instead of assuming that the paths of others would necessarily be right for me…for letting me climb to the tops of trees and to skateboard with wild abandon…for ferrying me to the ER when necessary.

Thanks for teaching me how to throw a fastball, wield a mean golf club and sink a jump shot on command…for being my biggest advocate (even still) and for believing in me even before I believed in myself.

Thanks for being oh-so-generous with your time…for listening intently to my wishes and worries…for considering me a worthy companion as we jogged over the back roads of town, watched doubleheaders into the wee hours and sat in scratchy lawn chairs together, completely mesmerized by the thunderstorms that rolled across the skies in the midst of July’s unbearable heat, summer after endless summer.

Thanks for introducing me to the concept of balancing a checkbook, as well as finding balance in my life…for teaching me to accept failure when it comes to call and to learn from my missteps…to appreciate having grandparents, a roof overhead and acres of woods all around.

Thanks for tolerating my teen years (Oy!), for trusting me with your beloved cars even though the voices inside your head must have screamed, “Noooo!” and for resisting the overwhelming desire to share with my High School Yearbook Committee that hideous photo of me with the mumps.  For that alone, I love you dearly.

Thanks for navigating so many road trips—to distant airports, to a good number of college campuses I considered calling home, to my very first job interview in the city.  Never mind that we got horribly lost in the process; but getting a glimpse of the White House at rush hour surely was grand.

Thanks for inspiring me to be a responsible individual, to work hard and to strive to do good in this world…for illustrating the power of forgiveness, the refuge of one’s church and the necessary nature of grieving our losses…for reminding me that things usually work out in the end—even when they look entirely hopeless at the start.

Thanks for underscoring the importance of finding time for one’s children, time for one’s marriage and time for oneself…for helping me recognize the inherent value of ice cream sundaes, the versatility of duct tape and the irreplaceable nature of a good friend.

Thanks for loving your grandchildren with as much ferocity as you loved me, for implanting within me the seeds of faith and for showing me the beauty of marrying one’s best friend.

By Melinda L. Wentzel

NOTE:  I hope you enjoyed this article as much as I did.  My father left when I was thirteen.  He never returned to live with us again.  My dads  visits were sporadic, with intervals of years between them.  A few years before he died we were reconciled with him.  I don’t have all of these precious memories that Melinda has.

What I do have truly blesses my life.  I have invested my life into my marriage so my children don’t have to be another statistic of a child living with a divorced parent.  My children can have the memories that Melinda has, and they do!  Praise God!!

NOTE:  Don’t miss tomorrows post.  Everyday there is a new post.