Father’s Day has always been hard.
It’s a bit of gravel in my shoe as I run.
It leaves an impression—
Camouflage for the soul.
Now that my dad is gone,
The conflict widens.
Silence stirs the deep.
His voice breaks through,
Lean into Heavenly arms.
Let Him bear the hurt.
Rest. Strengthen. Heal.
Open your hands.
Open your heart.
Receive God’s love.
No cost. No strings attached.
It stretches as far as,
The east is from the west.
Love and respect yourself.
You are worthy.
Then love your neighbor as yourself.
My dad loved his neighbors well.
As I struggle again this day,
The grit becomes the gift.
Jesus liberates all. Sinners. Men. Women.
Children. Outcasts. Prisoners. Me. You.
My dad trusted me to finish what he started.
So, I will not be silenced.
Father of the fatherless—
He heals generational wounds.
Remember the Papa who endures,
Lily Mae
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