My Worship Revolution

It was the summer of 1993.  I was 14 years old.  I remember being at the gas station at the Navy base when my mom told us.  Us being my sister, Megan, and I.

"Bobby, Megan, Your dad wants to come out here and see you guys."

OK, perhaps a little backstory is helpful.  My mom and dad were divorced when I was almost 2.  My mom was pregnant with my lil sis.  He moved to New York.  I don’t believe I saw him once between 2 years old and the point my mom shared this with us.  He sent child support monthly, but was never actually a part of our lives.

I got to meet him that year.  Some of the similarities were uncanny.  Appearance (yes, he’s short too!), sense of humor, mannerisms.  I was glad I got that opportunity.  We kept in contact a bit.  The last time I saw or spoke with him was October 2001.  I visited there a few times.  But he just never was good at keeping in touch.  It’s all good.  I’m still glad I got to meet him.

Now fast forward another 14 years.  I’m 28 years old.  It’s my turn.  It’s hours away from my first Father’s Day.  I’m a dad now.  And it’s flipped my world upside down…in amazing and wonderful ways.  One of the places our similarities stop will be in fatherhood.  I always wondered how a man could possibly conceive a son or daughter, and not have the absolute need to know that child and be involved in their life.  Now I wonder even more.  I can’t say I necessarily fault him for it.  He is who he is.  But I just can’t imagine it.

The greatest honor I have in life, next to being married to my amazing wife, is being  father to an amazing, bald, blue eyed little boy named Caleb.  I can’t imagine living another moment of my life without being involved in his.

Sometimes, on the nights when he’s being a punk, and he won’t go to sleep, I get the privilege of holding him on my chest and rocking him to sleep.  I sit there at times and wonder what he will become.  I think in that moment, as his eyelids are getting heavy, the soft glow of light is bouncing off his cheek, and his hand is resting on my shoulder, of the days ahead when he’ll be ticked at me cause I have to punish him for something.  The times we’ll toss around a ball in the front yard.  And as I look into his deep blue eyes staring up at me, I wonder what it would be like for him if he could only remember back to this moment someday like I can.  What the view must be like staring up at dad’s face as he falls asleep.

Whatever it is that the future holds, I want to be there to guide him and see him grow up.  Thanks for being my son, Caleb.  Thanks for a Happy Father’s Day.

First day home.                                    This morning.