A loving Father

Thank you faithful readers.  I didn’t post yesterday as you are well aware. 

1.) The internet is down at our apartment and it seems to be a hardware problem.  Either Frank or I have to call our provider.

2.) It was Father’s Day and the emotions welled up and I was really a silent blob.  Frank seemed okay, but didn’t want to do much of anything which is how I think he’s dealt with yesterday’s Hallmark holiday.

I honestly wish the internet was working at home because I should be an exemplary employee and not be writing blogs at the start of my work day. 

I look forward to when Frank will actually be able to look at the face of his child.  He couldn’t, and wouldn’t, bring himself to look at the scarlet stained cloth that cradled his first born.  So it only makes sense that yesterday Frank didn’t want to face the fact that he was a father.  Albeit, he is a father to a child that awaits us at home.  Teddy graham came home from the hospital before us.  He or she didn’t, by God’s standards I suppose, need the earthly, fleshly pruning quite like we did. 

However much Frank didn’t speak the pain, I could sense his heart ache every time he glanced over in church and saw a father nuzzle their son or daughter.  As I observed this wrenching soul, I could see the love and hurt in the ceasing expectation of a long awaited prayer.  He cared for this Teddy graham even before he could hold his or her hand. 

Since I know that my husband is my biggest supporter and reads these posts daily I’ve included a few comments about my take on his journey through this struggle.  The end of this post is meant to encourage him. I pray it helps wives encourage their husbands too.  Men tend to be less emotional than their counterparts.  Even so, they hurt too.  They won’t speak it frequently.  Yet, let us continue to encourage them and let them know that being strong doesn’t mean you forgo honest expression, contrary to society’s input. 

So honey, here is a tribute to you:

Frank, you’re an excellent father.  For the the two weeks we knew we were parents, you gently massaged me every time my back decided to spasm.  Whenever I ate veggies you insisted on washing them thoroughly so those pesticides wouldn’t cross that placenta into our babe.  In caring for me, you cared for Teddy graham.   You even uploaded an app so you could regale each new development occurring in our child’s body.  I know how badly you wanted to be a dad.  You are.  We just have to wait a little longer to meet ours. 

Dearest husband, you have bestowed unconditional love on Teddy graham already.  He or she knows their father’s love.  He or she will tell you so when we go home too.  You consistently showed the fruit of the Spirit (love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control) to little one and to me.  Since our loss, you have reiterated God’s love for us even in suffering.  You’ve never wavered in trusting God’s love.  Thank you.  You help to show me and others, daily, our loving Father’s compassion.  You remind those closest to you that God is never cruel, even when our demands are not granted.  You radiate a life surrendered to the Holy Spirit.  Thank you for being a strong encouragement when my faith rocks.  Please know that I’m here too.  It’s okay to admit the sadness.  Don’t bottle it up, if you sense that you are.  I’ve done that and it destroys you.  I know you are a pillar of faith and devotion to the source, our gracious, merciful, and deeply loving Father in heaven, which has made you a loving father to children on earth.  I admire you so much.  You are a great father and one day, be it to our own or just helping others, you will be a great father to a child breathing in your arms.  Thank you and Happy Father’s Day.

Word of Caution when reading the two paragraphs above:  Scripture says that we will not be given in marriage when we reach heaven (when the Pharisees ask Jesus about the woman who had seven husbands because each brother kept dying).  We will know our family and friends, but the purpose of heaven is not family.  Most modern movies depict heaven as simply a reunion with lost loved ones.  It is to an extent, but it is even more so a reunion with God.  We will be joined together with all of Jesus’ followers in a joyous chorus of praise.  We will be reunited with God and feasting with him.  The focus is God, not us.  So while I speak of meeting our infant one day, I know that it’ll be as we come together in bringing the Triune God worship.

Another consideration:  Also, we say Father God.  I frequently believe that this is because of the patriarchal context of our ancient texts.  The early century Jewish culture, the audience in which Scripture was originally written for and has since become transcendent through time, was patriarchal.  However, God is Spirit too, though we often refer to him in terms we can comprehend, in tangible relationships.  He is more.  God is supernatural.  May we never box him in. 

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