By Kate McKinney
This was read by me at the Father’s Day Program at Grace Church of the Nazarene today.
Every Mother’s Day it seems that every mother is honored as being a special sort of person
who rises above the chaos, takes the bull by the horns,
and creates a haven for her family
out of cobwebs, apple pie, tracked in mud, and hot chocolate.
I am here to tell you that every song, film, poem, or humorous reading I have ever heard on the subject of motherhood reminds me of one person above all others.
Holding our baby’s hand in the hospital during a breathing treatment
He has cleaned up vomit, mine and the kids’.
He’s unclogged the vacuum countless times, not so I can use it, but so he can.
He’s been known to wash a load of laundry (particularly when vomit is involved.)
He doesn’t always remember to clean the lint filter, but that’s ok. I don’t always remember to clean the house.
He makes the world’s best pigs-in-a-blanket, is an expert bacon fryer, and is the reason Subway invented the term “Sandwich Artist.”
He has slept on ½ inch of bed space as long as we have had children, and has taken more than one nap with a kid sitting on him. I have the pictures to prove it.
He’ll rock a baby for an hour if that’s what it takes.
Here’s to the dads who aren’t afraid to change diapers, and who never use the word “babysitting” when it comes to their own offspring.
To the dads who don’t just toss a pigskin, but also cradle a porcelain tea cup.
To the dads who give out hugs as freely as they give out quarters.
To the dads who are brave enough to cry.
On Father’s Day we thank you men who do not reside on the mountaintop, but down on the shag carpet.
The boo-boos you have kissed, the hair you have put into pony tails,
the legos you have stepped on, the bike seats you have held on to until the last moment and then let go of,
the “I hate yous” you have endured and the “I love yous” that you have cherished will never be forgotten.
The work you are doing cannot be measured, and the love you are creating will never stop leapfrogging across time.
Thank you for being brave enough to say yes.
To say no. To sometimes stop, and sometimes go.
To the fathers that have gone on before,and those who are here,
the ones who are separated from their children, and the ones who have no partner to share the load.
To those, who instead of being a natural father to a few, instead became a father figure to many.
To all the fathers who try and fail, and try and win, we thank you.