For Father's Day

He wakes up before me. I can hear him downstairs, the plates clink and the silverware rattles as he unloads the dishwasher. I hear the thumps and the bumps and the giggles, because the 4-year-old is up with him. The 4-year-old always wants to be wherever his daddy is.

He brews the coffee and sweeps up last night's crumbs and takes out the garbage. Just the little things that mean everything to get the day going smoothly.

Somehow, a stripey tie just doesn't seem enough.

He works long days, long hours. He returns home to tiny children who have been impatiently waiting for his car to pull up. They greet him with cheers and questions and kisses, as if his homecoming is the highlight of their day.

And why wouldn't it be?
This is Daddy who pitches the ball and pushes the swing and plays the bad guy every time.
This is Daddy who is always up for ice cream outings and late-night movies.
This is Daddy who gives bear hugs and tickles and sneaks them potato chips after Mommy says no.

Somehow, a grill set just doesn't cut it.

He's always there with a band-aid, or a screwdriver, or a consoling hug, whenever something needs mending.

He handles the spiders, the sibling spats and even the occasional poopy diaper.

He's a coach and a cheerleader. He's a solid rock and soft place to snuggle.

He prays for us and gives for us and lives for us.

Somehow, a coffee mug falls a little short.

There is nothing we can wrap in shiny paper and a big bow to adequately express our gratefulness for you.

So the kids are scribbling some little pictures and I am writing these words. We can never give you a gift to match the one that you have given us.

All we can do is say THANK YOU.

And Happy Father's Day.

(Don't worry. We got you something to unwrap too. ;)