A Father’s Love

Last night I saw my father on a bicycle. The sunset was fading and he was alone in the park ahead of me. Recollecting that he’s been dead for almost three years, I didn’t call after him. And he didn’t look back. That man will never know the scar he ripped off in me.

Unbeknownst to him, I wept while this father figure of mine teetered north, his flannel jacket softly flapping in the breeze. 

I have many things to say. 900 stories to tell. But a Wisdom invites me— nay, warns me— to wait. In the meantime, I marshal my body forward at a time when the inclination to hide, defend, and protect the soul inhabiting within… is very, very strong. 

Please pray for me and for my family. Thank you. 

God, the Father of Mercy… see me. I call after You. I won’t mistake who You are. I am Yours and within Your wounds, I hide.  You are Love and in this I find my peace. Stay with me.

 

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2 thoughts on “A Father’s Love

  1. Gregory

    For The Interim Time

    When near the end of the day, life has drained
    Out of light, and it is too soon
    For the mind of night to have darkened things,

    No place looks like itself, loss of outline
    Makes everything look strangely
    in-between,
    Unsure of what has been, or what might come.

    In this wan light, even trees seem groundless.
    In a while it will be night, but nothing
    Here seems TO believe the relief of dark.

    You are on this time of interim
    Where everything seems withheld.

    The path you took to get here has washed out;
    The way forward is still concealed from you.

    “The old is not old enough to have died away;
    The new is still too young to be born.”

    You cannot lay claim to anything;
    In this place of dusk,
    Your eyes are blurred;
    And there is no mirror.

    Everyone else has lost sight of your heart
    And you can see nowhere to put your trust;
    You know you have to make your own way through.

    As far as you can, hold your confidence.
    Do not allow your confusion to squander
    This call which is loosening
    Your roots in false ground,
    That you might come free
    From all you have outgrown.

    What is being transfigured here is your mind,
    And it is difficult and slow to become new.
    The more faithfully you can endure here,
    The more refined your heart will become
    For your arrival in the new dawn.

    To Bless the Space Between Us
    ~ John O’ Donohue

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