“What you learn from your parents will crown you with grace and be a chain of honor around your neck." – Proverbs 1: 8-9
While searching impatiently for the ideal Father’s Day card, Tom’s thoughts drifted back to an earlier time. As if it were only yesterday, he saw himself as a young boy on a dusty baseball field. There were no steel bats, or sliding shorts, or batting gloves back then. Travel teams had not been invented – only Little League baseball.
“You’re up!” Coach motioned. Tommy grabbed his “Louisville Slugger” and hustled out of the dugout. A few practice swings for good luck meant he was ready.
He glanced briefly toward the stands hoping to see his dad. Mom sat in the second row, immensely proud of her young athlete. Tommy knew she was muttering under her breath about the uncomfortable wooden benches, sweltering heat, and absence of her husband. She offered her grievances silently to God just in case He wanted to do something about them.Tommy stepped to the plate. The pitcher fired his first pitch wildly over Tommy’s head for ‘Ball 1’.
He looked back at his Mom still sitting alone. She shouted, “Good eye, buddy. Good eye!”
Reassured, Tommy glared at the pitcher. The second pitch barreled toward him; a good fastball. Whoosh. ‘Strike 1!’ A soft round of applause caused him to wonder if they were cheering at his failure. He planted his cleats and gritted his teeth.
Tommy swung with all his might at the third pitch. ‘Crack’ – a solid connection. Tommy watched the ball sail toward center field; his adrenaline pumping frantically. Rounding first base, the ball remained airborne. He briefly lost sight of the ball as the fielder’s outstretched arm snatched it out of thin air. Inning over – game over!
Tommy lumbered back to the dugout where Mom waited. “Wow!” she said, “Great hit, and an amazing catch too.”
“Where’s Dad?”
“He wanted to come, honey,” she said, “But he had to work. He’ll try to make the next one.”
The two interlocked fingers through the fence. A frozen memory.
He was back in the card shop now, facing dozens of cards about sons’ adoration for their fathers. Eventually, he found a card and knew exactly what to write: “Honestly, you weren’t much help getting me into the Major Leagues . . . but I’m the man I am today because of you. Love Tom.” The sealed envelope went in the outgoing mail.
A few days later, his phone rang. “Hello?” he said.
Awkward silence as Tom waited.
“I got your card and, well . . . I did the best I could. Thank you for the card son. I love you.”
“I know,” Tommy replied “Happy Father’s Day, Mom! I love you, too.”
Holy Father, for single Moms, everyday is “Father's Day” . . . but not in the normal "celebrate how cool Dad is" American holiday. Bless the Moms who wear both hats every day and encourage them to be courageous and faithful. Amen.
