The Good Dad

My daughter dropped a stack of dishes today.
I loved her. I forgave her. I held her.
I helped her see it through loving eyes.
I am not the best Dad.
I lay claim to no awards.
I have spanked—when I shouldn’t.
I have yelled—from my own impatience.
I have manipulated—because I want to control.

My life is a picnic, and sometimes
I feel like I’m covered with ants.
That I sat on a bee, and got stung in the butt.
That my apple is rotten.
It’s still a picnic, and around me… laughter.

I don’t know, Lord,
Why you blessed me with them.
I want to give them so much,
But I’m all I have.

At least they know…
I love them.
I will take time for them.
I will do my best to protect them.
I will provide for them.
And if someone needs to sit on a bee,
It might as well be me.

God help me,
If nothing else,
To be a good Dad.

For Jimmy and Rebecca, March 21, 1999