The carpet’s worn,
feet scuffing as you shuffled the little one to bed.
Each night you sit rocking,
reading her the Scriptures.
One lost, who you mention briefly from time to time,
careful not to reveal the silent pain that wells from having to lose that precious babe.
Yet you cradle the life we were blessed with,
kissing her soft forehead,
and professing your love to care.
You even pause, before heading off to work,
to kiss the babe that currently grows within me.
At night, the grey screen sits in front of me
and I watch, in awe, your daily sacrifice.
When sleep is foreign and you are weary,
you never fail to press in and shower her with affection regardless.
My own father pats my head and pulls me in for hugs.
I’ll never know the heartache of a wandering father and neither will our children.
Prayers are ushered for the hurting, that they might know the unconditional and unending love of Jesus.
Thank you for all you do.
Too many women think their men are deadbeats, even if these men are weary after a long day’s work.
These women say their man should not get a day of rest, but demand a reprieve themselves on the woman’s Hallmark celebration.
I’m pleased to say that I don’t feel this way,
because no matter where I’m at, I have a helpmate by my side.
The two of us together, parenting.
You share these joys and struggles with me and for that, I’m forever grateful.
I’m sorry for the days I take you for granted.
May you always be assured that even when you receive words of angst and frustration, I appreciate you and your dedication.
I love you Francis Joseph Eisbacher.