An early memory from childhood involves asking my mother in the morning, “Where is Daddy?” She would tell me that he had just left for work. Often I would look at the kitchen table and I would see his coffee cup and plate from his breakfast. Though it seems very silly now, at three years old it was fun to take his spoon and get the sugar that was still in his cup. Knowing that it had been my father’s cup just a little earlier in the morning made it special.
One of life’s sweetest blessings for me is being a father. It is a never-ending responsibility. I find myself thinking about this responsibility at various times in the day. My attention is always captured when a book or article I read mentions being a father. Hearing a special little girl say something that I have said or in the way I have said it often takes my breath away.
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