The Grateful Seed

“Don’t be discouraged or anxious, the Lord has chosen to give you the Kingdom." ~ Luke 12:22-34

“Life just isn’t fair,” thought the tiny seed buried in the mud.  While others were thriving above, Zera (Hebrew for seed), was stuck in the dark, wet dirt.  A few days ago, she’d fallen to the ground.  Then it rained a little before a deer crushed her deep into the soil.

But what Zera didn’t see, was the mouse that ate the seedlings in the grass, the chipmunk that gathered them to store for the upcoming winter, or even the fire that scorched all that lived above; casting it as confetti into the sky.

Autumn days soon got shorter, colder.  Winter settled in for the long embrace to Mother Earth, freezing the life from those seedlings who hadn’t taken sufficient care.

Spring arrived!  Zera heard the promise of summer.  Warmer days and soothing rains brought the song she needed to raise her spirit.  As she warmed and sipped heaven-given rain, her tiny shoot emerged, reaching for sunlight, joining a community of other plants rising bold and vibrant.

Yet Zera’s troubles weren’t over. 

In the next 12 months, it grew only a few inches while the other plants made greater strides as if to mock her.  Having lost her leaves in the fall, the sapling barely survived the bitter winter.  As it grew, she faced critters, droughts, and windstorms.

Zera grew many times larger than the seedling she once was, yet still only a fraction of what she was destined to become.  Even while she reached higher and higher into the sunny blue sky, Zera never forgot her roots; sending them deeper and farther into the mud that’d once miraculously protected her.

Each year, Zera grew upward and outward.  She survived tornadoes and floods and cloudless skies.  She’d become a magnificent oak tree; her bark so patterned as if carved by rain-born rivers.  The foliage of her canopy supported all life on earth; her deep, anchoring roots absorbed fuel for decades of healthy life.

This fallen world provides ample opportunities for despair; it’s a wonder anyone is happy.  It’s difficult missing your work friends due to COVID, facing a debilitating disease, or being mocked for your Christian values.  It’s exhausting to worry about social injustice, economic insecurity, and corruption in politics and government.  It seems as though we’re witness to a world in rapid decay.

We’re all touched by its brokenness, but reassurance can be found in God’s grace.  It’s not us against an evil world.  Believers are citizens of another Kingdom.  And while everything around us is impermanent, His Kingdom has no end.  Like the tiny seed, sink your moral roots deep, grateful that life’s challenges have given us resilience, courage, and faith in the One who created us.

Loving Father, thank You that Your grace has been extended to all who will believe in You as the great shepherd of all the lost people of the world, including me.  Thank You for saving me and drawing me into Your eternal sheep-fold.  Amen

Two Hearts

 “God has given each of you a gift.  Use it to help each other." ~ 1 Peter 4:10

Steph loved the sky before a storm.  Clouds of molten silver were swirling in steady, radiating ripples; alive with an excitement for what was to come.  It seemed that ideas streamed as natural things do on these peaceful drives - from sweet brown soils, glossy leaves, and scarlet tulips.

Her daughter Cassie sat in the backseat, quietly enthralled in her Lion King video for the hundredth or more time.  She watched as children do, giggling, wiggling, and oblivious.  If given a choice between a gold coin or a kitten, she'd take the silly cat every time.  Such simple wisdom.

Their tranquility literally came to a screeching halt when a small object appeared in their headlights, eyes staring back in sheer terror.  Steph hit the brakes with but a split second to react, stopping inches before a confused and terrified small dog.

Steph switched on her hazard lights before exiting her vehicle.  Bright eyes on full beam, tail wagging, the little guy softened into grateful mode.  With eyes so intelligent he could’ve been from Narnia, Steph half expected him to speak as she coaxed him toward the shoulder.

Cassie came fully alert when horns began honking.  Steph opened her door and the pup immediately jumped in, quickly finding Cassie’s lap.  “Well, hello there,” she said in a voice as sweet as a new blossom, and buried her face in the living teddy bear.  In seconds her face was covered in slobber. 

"Kisses ... why ... thank you," Cassie giggled appreciatively.  Her tail no longer wagged, but circled like a helicopter blade; any happier, and his saucer-plate paws might’ve caught some air.

Steph stood there wondering what to do next when a car pulled up.  Luckily a nice older couple (the fourth car to stop, the rest sailed on by) asked if they were okay.

“We’re fine!” Steph said before jokingly asking “You haven't lost a dog, have you?"

“Oh my God,” the woman said, "Yes!  A German Shepperd puppy named Rascal.  He’s appropriately named because he can jump three-foot fences and chew through doors, but we love him already.”

“I believe he's in the back of my car!!” Steph motioned.

They exchanged contact information, and Cassie offered free dog sitting to the owners while Rascal gave her a few more wet kisses.

A double whammy - two acts of kindness reciprocating each other.

We strengthen our capacity to empathize and care by seeing ourselves in others.  Even in small things, it’s this cycle of reciprocity upon which the health of the human family depends.  Human kindness needs only the nourishing soil of reciprocity to thrive.  May we all benefit from loving reminders to act following this wisdom.

Father God, let me be large in thought, word, and deed.  Help me put away all pretense and meet others face to face — without self-pity and prejudice.  May I never be hasty in my judgment, but generous, calm, and gentle.  Amen

(Easter) Transformation

 “Anyone who lives puts his trust in Me will never die." ~ John 11:26

Ask any three people for a transformative symbol and you can count on it at least one of them will mention the butterfly; born of an insignificant caterpillar who will wrap herself in a silk cocoon (or chrysalis) and develop into a delicate winged beauty.

Somehow, the miracle of the butterfly never loses its fascination for me.  Perhaps because the butterfly is a living parable of the resurrection promise Christians celebrate on Easter Sunday.

I’ve always idealized what happens in a chrysalis, when the caterpillar gingerly cocoons herself away from the day’s sunlight.  She’ll later emerge from her tiny tomb as a fully-developed, spectacular butterfly soaring into the heavens, thus completing a gentle metamorphosis from one thing into another.

Biologists, however, say it’s anything but!  The remains of a dissected chrysalis don’t resemble a half-caterpillar, half-butterfly.  But instead, a puddle of liquid goo.

To be able to become a butterfly, the caterpillar must completely decompose down to its very essence, devoid of any shape or consciousness.  Cells rupture.  Muscle dissolves.  All that’s left is an amino acid and protein soup.  It dies.  There’s nothing left of it. 

And from this liquid substance, a butterfly starts to rebuild itself from scratch.  Biologists call what happens to the caterpillar “a violent, utterly disruptive, cataclysmic change.”  The caterpillar experiences its own Good Friday.

The Bible reveals that on Good Friday, Jesus was lifted, already bloodied and broken, onto a crossbeam of wood, where he was further scorned and ridiculed as he slowly asphyxiated.  By the time Friday’s sun was setting, Jesus would’ve been scarcely recognizable, even to his mother and few remaining friends.  Jesus’ face was cruelly swollen, his body contorted and bruised, with shoulders wrenched from their sockets.

Jesus didn’t just die.  He died horribly.

Just three days later, on Easter morning the disciples peered into the open tomb and saw only the linens used to bind Jesus’ dead body - nothing else.  The corpse was gone, much like an empty chrysalis deserted by a butterfly who escaped to soar freely.  "He has risen as He promised," an angel told the skeptical disciples.

For Christians around the world, Easter is a celebration of Jesus’ resurrection.  But Easter is also about us.  If we are to experience Easter, if we are to share in Resurrection, we must be willing to relinquish those things we cling to that threaten our spiritual well-being. 

And when we do, we’ll emerge from Good Friday with the Son of God into new life.  The best of our old lives - our passions, our virtues, our beauties, our loves - will still be at the heart of us.   We will be who we are but redeemed in the light of God’s grace.

Father the Father, thank You for the miracle of life -abundant life here, and eternal life with You in Heaven.  Help me celebrate that life every day as I seek You and follow Your plan for my life.  Amen

Swing (S)low

 “A happy heart makes the face cheerful." ~ Proverbs 15:13

Every guy dreams of one day being just like his dad.  He can envision that day when he looks at his father and sees an exact copy of himself. 

Well, that's how it was for me ever since I was little.  He also knew how to have fun, and even if we messed up, it was never a big deal.  Dad dealt with the scariest of monsters (well, spiders at least), kept his eyes open on the rollercoaster (most of the time), and put on all the silly voices when he read a bedtime story.  I don't think I could ask for a better father. 

Like most kids, I always tried to emulate my Dad and his love of golf.  So, at about age 5, I was at my uncle’s house and we were practicing golf in his huge backyard (though I didn’t need more than 50 feet). 

Cousin Dave came up and asked if he could give it a try.  I showed him what few basics I knew – “keep your head down, focus your eyes on the front edge (target side) of the ball, and take dead aim.”

Dave took a few practice swings before addressing the ball.  As he swung, his 7-iron caught me right above the eye.  Totally my fault!  A small gash opened in the middle of my eyebrow.  It required nothing more than a general anesthetic, cleaning, and 2 stitches.

Dave kept apologizing over and over while I found myself laughing through the blood dripping down my cheek and into my mouth.  I spent the next few days walking around with a huge goose egg, a cool scar, and a black eye.  But it was so worth it. 

In time those scars would become silver trails to a better future, a road map of survival and triumph, a story that brought pride and inspired others.  For years others laughed whenever I wove the tale and gently teased Dave about his switchblade-sharp, 7-iron.

In this life, we all get a poke in the eye from time to time.  Our plans go awry.  Things work against us.  Our ups become downs, and life’s twists and turns take us where they may.  It’s best to handle them with love, acceptance, and laughter. 

It helps turn pain to joy, heartbreak into learning, and it makes God smile.  The Almighty has the most wonderful sense of humor and has gifted us with it.  We’re all imperfect!  Christians who experience a wellspring of joy, are the same people who find it easy to laugh at themselves.  They tend to be much happier and self-confident.

So, keep smiling - even when there’s a goose egg on your forehead and an elbow in your eye.

“Now I lay me down to sleep.  I pray dear Lord my shape to keep.  Please no wrinkles; please no bags and lift my butt before it sags.  Please keep me healthy, keep me young, and thank you Jesus for all You've done.  Amen” (Retiree’s Prayer)

Polio Pioneer

 “There’s no greater love than to give one’s life for one’s friends." ~ John 15:13

A little over 70 years ago, a newly-elected, 16-year-old sophomore ran laps and lifted weights in preparation for football tryouts.  On the drive home, his neck, arms, and legs felt unusually stiff.

He went to bed with a fever that night.  The next morning, his mother found him rigid; struggling to breathe.  A spinal tap later confirmed the dreaded poliomyelitis.

In the early 50s, polio was a national scourge.  Fearing the virus, cities closed pools, theaters, schools, and churches, forcing priests to reach out to their congregations on local radio.  In 1952 alone, there were nearly 58,000 cases and more than 3,100 deaths.  Many children would never walk again, some lost the use of their arms, others never saw another summer.

Unable to breathe on his own, Bill was placed in an iron lung - a mechanical device housing most of his body.  It stimulated normal breathing by varying air pressure inside the machine.

Eventually, he recovered enough not to require help from the iron lung.  But, as that fear and isolation quieted, he realized he couldn't move his limbs.

Pulley devices on his bed helped him exercise his legs. Several times a week, buoyed by warm therapy pools, he practiced walking and sitting in a submerged aluminum chair.  After 6 months, he began walking unsteadily in a back brace with canes.

When a hospital memo went around that Dr. Jonas Salk was seeking volunteers to test an unproven polio vaccine, Bill didn't hesitate.  His motive: To help his two nephews avoid the crippling disease.

His parents objected at first.  Should the anti-polio serum go awry, their son could contract another, more deadly form of the disease.  But when the teenager quoted Christ’s words in John 15:13 above, they clearly understood how God works through people and how He could use their son’s paralyzing illness for good.

On July 2, 1952, Bill Kilpatrick (17) became the world’s Case History #1 to receive Salk’s polio vaccine.  Blood tests soon revealed that he developed permanent immunity to the virus and left the rehab center later that summer.

After a massive field trial in 1954 that involved 1.8 million schoolchildren known as “polio pioneers,” the Salk vaccine was licensed for use on April 12, 1955, 10 years to the day after the death of Franklin Roosevelt; himself a polio victim.  Its final report, released to the media at the University of Michigan’s Rackham Lecture Hall, listed the vaccine as “safe, effective, and potent.”

Bill not only recovered from polio but thrived.  He graduated from college, went to seminary and became an Episcopal Minister.  He served in several dioceses, scaling back his work in the 1980s, after developing the post-polio syndrome.  He died in 2003.

Almighty Father, thank You for the blessing of my friends.  Help me to be the kind of friend to them that will put them first.  Give me the opportunity and willingness to serve their needs and the courage to lay my life down for them if needed.  Amen

The Lullaby of Spring

 “Absorb His words like rain on parched grass and showers on young plants." ~ Deuteronomy 32:2

When the whispers of winter become too faint to hear, when Easter’s lullaby begins echoing amid wistful, fragrant air, we’ve arrived at the first signs of spring.  To the keen eye, there are new buds on old trees and fresh blooms born to a warming earth.

Each spring, the urge to plant something, a flower or anything that would blossom, pulled at Evie.  Clearly, a legacy from her grandmother who’d once kept a sprawling flower garden; a sanctuary for quiet reflection.  The place was as humble as any on earth teeming with flora that provided the same for bees, hummingbirds, and butterflies zooming in for a taste of sweet nectar.

Gram’s garden gave its best from when frost still powdered the ground until late autumn covered it with flaming leaves.  Evie believed her grandmother had found the secret to life itself buried deep in the soft black ground.

There’d been ample space and sunlight for things to grow at Gram’s house - unlike the city where Evie lived.  No place to grow a single flower in front of her brownstone where angled cracks only hinted at dirt below and even weeds had a difficult time breaking through.  Not inside her tiny dark apartment where the life-giving sunlight would have to traverse an impossibly long distance just to reach her filthy windows.

She’d tried that first year; when hope blossomed and the future seemed full of promise.  She’d purchased a clay pot of patio tomatoes guaranteed to produce plenty of juicy, scarlet fruit.  But lacking sufficient sunlight and fresh air, its green faded brown.  By summer’s end, the tomatoes had shriveled like raisins in the sun.

Evie tossed the plant and never brought home another. Instead, every spring, when the desire for life bloomed in her, she’d stop at the local florist and buy an armful of pink roses, red tulips, yellow daffodils, orange marigolds, and white carnations.

Tenderly, she’d carry the paper-wrapped bundle down the dingy subway stairs.  The subway platform could use a bit more art, a bit more flair, anything to lift commuters’ spirits.

Evie surveyed the familiar scene - people scurried by facing straight ahead – eyes as immobile as their faces – distant, anxious, exhausted.

She began handing out her beautiful stock one at a time to passersby, enjoying their surprise when she said “Enjoy the Spring.”  It was her way of acknowledging that spring comes as a “lullaby to newly opened ears and hearts.”

Spring reminds us that God makes everything new.  Soon leaves will fill the trees, flowers will burst in vibrant colors, and birds will chirp joyful melodies.  Every time we see the signs of a new season, we are witnessing God’s Words and Promises fulfilled.

Heavenly Father, help me to use this springtime to bloom in Your Shadow.  Let our petals grow and our leaves steadily extend to support others, as we celebrate Your glorious resurrection and the love You have for Your children.  Amen

The Extra Mile

 “Never tire of opportunities to do something good." ~ Galatians 6:9

Like millions of students across the planet, Simone’s frustration was building; she felt like pounding her fists on the table like a toddler.  Her 12-year-old brain seemed to be spinning its gears without any notable progress.

She was coping with remote instruction, but just barely.  The sixth-grader was having difficulty controlling her temper; saying cruel things and constantly having to apologize for her outbursts.

She took another deep breath.

When Simone struggled with her algebra homework, she didn't have a ton of options.  She couldn't raise her hand and ask the teacher to look over her shoulder, she couldn't ask her classmate for help, and she couldn't rely on her parents to explain it either.  Her Dad had gotten all the answers wrong when he helped her last time.

But it wasn’t just the frustration from the pandemic’s in-home learning that bothered her most.  It was that distance learning had affected her relationships with classmates and teachers.  “The excitement of seeing colleagues, doing an experiment, learning hands-on, sharing lunch – it just wasn’t there anymore,” she thought. “That made school seem like a burden rather than a joyful adventure that they could reminisce about in the future.”

Simone had emailed her math teacher, Mr. Weber, for help to explain the latest algebra lesson on graphing.  Then waited for his reply. 

After exchanging multiple emails with his student, Mr. Weber could tell that Simone was struggling and about to give up; her voice cracking through tears of disappointment. “Hang in there,” he cautioned.  I’ve got another idea, just give me a few minutes, OK?”

Simone waited impatiently for him to email her some tips when the doorbell rang.

Standing on her front porch in casual attire and a baseball cap, Mr. Weber held a large whiteboard from school and a dry-erase marker.  He proceeded to explain the equation graphically as the sixth-grader listed intently from inside her home, taking notes while both adhered to social-distancing mandates.

Simone was shocked to see her teacher outside.  Her Dad wasn't surprised; they’d known Weber as a teacher and longtime friend.

Weber, who'd taught at the middle school for 27 years, said that helping Simone grasp the topic was equally special to him.  “That’s the joy every teacher joins the profession for,” he explained.  “Whether it’s F2F, online, or in a classroom full of 30 kids, that’s why we do what we do.”

Responding to all the accolades he received, Weber insisted, “Kindness matters!  Millions of teachers in this country go above and beyond every day for their students during this extraordinary time, I’m certainly not alone.”

Education is the road to success.  God bless those who teach!

Father God, thank You for the teachers who do what’s right for our kids; who make sure they believe in themselves and don’t ever quit.  Use this story as a reminder of the power of going the extra mile in being kind.  Amen

Their Last Conversation

 “The people who want to stay in your life will always find a way." ~ Unknown

If there was a lightbulb out or something to assemble, Kei’s Dad would do it.  Same if her bike needed repair or her doll’s arm needed reattaching, or she wanted a bookcase to display her library of Junie B Jones books – Dad did it.

Every time he repaired something, he asked little Kei to hold the hammer or wrench.  Just so they’d have some time for chitchat.

He never drank or took a “night out with the boys.“  Fatherhood was his calling.  To him, a father’s worth was measured, in part, by how well he knew the longings of his children’s hearts.

Every Sunday morning while Mom attended choir rehearsal, she and Dad went to breakfast before church.  It was one of her favorite parts of every week.  Without fail, their chats always included laughter, encouragement, and sports talk. 

The man she’d wrapped around her finger since the day she was born had been her softball coach thorough elementary and middle school years.  Softball provided quality time for more bonding.

Once Kei went away to college, Dad called every Sunday morning.  Years later when she bought a house, Dad painted it by himself for three days in the scorching summer heat.  All he asked was for her to occasionally bring him a glass of sweet tea and sit and talk with him.

One Sunday morning, Dad struggled to breathe so their call was unusually short.  Symptoms had started a few days earlier.  Kei knew her father would outrun the virus, but it progressed so rapidly that he became hospitalized.

Flying home, she tried to remember their last conversation.

When she arrived at the hospital, he pursed his lips so she would kiss him.  Then he closed his eyes never to open them again.  For the first time, he didn’t have time for a conversation with her. 

Later that evening, Mom asked “Did you tell him he could go?  Kei, it has to be you.”

“How could what she says matter?” Kei wondered.  It had been almost 10 hours since his eyes were open; since he spoke. 

But he needed her; he needed one last conversation with Kei.

She rested her cheek gently on the hand she held with both of her own.  Kei gaze at his closed eyelids and said, “I’ll miss you so terribly Dad, but I’ll be okay.  You can go now!”

She immediately wished she hadn’t … because right then, with those four words still vibrating in the air between them, there was the slightest change in his being, the stillness called death.  The world was as quiet as it’d ever been.

All he ever asked was for her time.  And now he has all Kei’s attention every single day.

Father God, thank You for the wonderful people in my life.  Watch over them and lead them into hope and blessing.  Protect and hold them when life is hard.  Help me be a better friend to them.  Amen

The Bicycle Lesson

 “No one is right with God.  Not even one!" ~ Romans 3:10

Liam learned to ride a two-wheeler early, successfully mastering balance, steering, and pedaling as if born to ride.  No other task beats bicycling to boost a child’s confidence.

He loved biking: fresh wind, bright sunlight, clean fragrances.  It meant freedom; a new-fangled way of having fun.  Nary a day passed when Liam could not be seen galloping his rusty iron horse around the neighborhood sidewalks and dirt paths.

As he grew into teenhood, he rode bigger bikes – always used and seldom completely safe: worn brakes, broken reflectors, missing chainguards.  They were all his father could afford on a teacher’s salary while feeding 5 children.  Liam didn’t mind.  It was that feeling of motion, speed, and the chance to ride over grass and mud he craved. 

Today after school Liam rode his bike for hours as if the rolling country road had a way of releasing energy reserves he didn’t know he had.  His legs remained in constant motion as thoughts hung in the moment, admiring each blossom, bird, and leaf.  Rubber tires met the road in a sweet love affair; one that made traveling onward so inviting.

Wheeling back into his neighborhood, he coasted down the hill, making S- shapes as he careened from the street’s far left to far right, no great risk at that quiet hour.  Flying down the slope, his speed increased too quickly.  Missing the curve, he popped the curb and tried to brake.

Que the Batman graphics: “CRASH, BOOM, THUD!”

Helmut heard a loud bang and hurried outside, spotting a boy rising up from the ground and steadying himself.  He ran as if the boy were on fire.

“I’m sorry, I’m, so sorry,” Liam repeated.  “I think my brakes broke.”  They surveyed the damage. 

The bike’s front rim formed an irregular oval; its frame twisted at obscene angles.  Salvage value only.

The car’s door was dented and scratched.  Fixable for a price.

Liam waited for the owner to get angry and berate him for what he’d done, expecting punishment or forgiveness at best.

But seeing the frightened teenager cower, Helmut refrained.  He understood that what’d happened was unintentional.  Certain the boy was OK; he forgave the child before helping him carry the wrecked bike home.

To Liam’s surprise, Helmut returned a few days later with a brand-new red bike for him, complete with working brakes.  The boy’s reaction above says it all!

Rather than screaming at the child for making a mistake, Helmut chose kindness, understanding, and forgiveness.  The word “forgive” literally means “to let go of,” breathing from your heart as you feel God’s presence.  It’s an attitude choice that honestly recognizes an offense and releases it on the basis of God’s clemency of us.

Almighty God, Your Son was the only perfect human; we all fail miserably short.  Thank You for Your grace and mercy.  Give me the strength and power to extend the same to those who’ve hurt me so that I might live in peace, joy, and freedom.  Amen.

A Father's Instinct

 “The watches of you like a protective shade." ~ Psalm 121:5

Like so many New Englanders, Tom adored the Red Sox.  He coached his kids through Little League and, occasionally, took them to one of the most beloved MLB ballparks on earth - Fenway Park.  

He’d scored 3 tickets for a game against the White Sox.  With his two younger sons in tow, the usher escorted them to front-row seats just behind the Red Sox dugout.  Tom’s smile couldn’t adequately reflect his amazement.  The lush turf, the Green Monster - they were so close.

The game was everything they’d hoped for.  With the score tied 2-2, Bosox second baseman Dave Stapleton swung late, slashing a foul ball into the stands to the right side of home plate.  The ball whistled into the seats so fast it was hard to follow.  Tom assumed the ball entered the dugout. 

Until he heard his 4-year-old son's sickening scream.

Tom looked down at Jonathan.  Blood gushed from a wound over his left eye.  The ball had fractured his son’s skull.

Boston slugger Jim Rice, one of the game’s biggest stars at the time, stood on the top stair of the dugout.  He couldn't see exactly where the ball landed but heard the horrific thud, the "Ooooh" of the crowd - and the dreadful silence that followed.

Sprinting from the dugout, he leapt into the crowd. Cradling the unresponsive child in his burly arms, Rice hustled back to the dugout where he was immediately attended to by the team’s physician.  The scene took less than 60 seconds.

Jonathon’s life-threatening head injury required emergency surgery to relieve the pressure on his brain.  Every second counted.  Rice's quick thinking helped save the boy’s life.  Rice even requested that the hospital bill be sent to him personally.

Incredibly, Jonathan left the hospital 5 days later.  They’d reunite 8 months later at Fenway when Jonathon delivered the first pitch of the ‘83 season.  

The best thing Jim Rice did in a Red Sox uniform wasn’t mentioned on his Hall of Fame plaque.  It doesn't show up in his stats or support his stature as one of the most dominant hitters of his era.

Rice, a father of two young children, was thinking of only one thing.  "My child," he said.

God our Father in heaven is the perfect example of what a father should be - a life-giver, instructor, provider, and protector.  He watches over us; never needing a break from the incessant needs of His children.  

The God “who keeps you” won’t doze off at 11 pm scrolling through notifications on an iPhone.  No, He’s available every minute of every day for the entirety of our lives and into eternity.  Such vigilant protection is unlike any other god.

“Our Father, who art in heaven,” thank You for delighting in Your children.  Help us consider all that You are and all that You have done for us.  Pour out Your love, grace, and goodness upon all Dads today and every day.  Amen