This school year we started a tradition that each month each of the kids gets to have a special lunch with dad. Yesterday, it was my oldest son's turn. We went to a local park, kicked around a soccer ball, sat on a bench and ate a brown bag lunch together. There wasn't much conversation. I've wondered at times whether these little investments of time, that are usually not full of all sorts of meaningful conversation, have any sort of significant value.
On the way back home from the park, Isaac broke the silence with a phrase that every father loves to hear...an unsolicted, "I love you, dad." On my way back to work I pondered the short experience with my son. I couldn't help but consider that the great works of God do inspire awe in my heart, but it is the simplicity and consistency of His presence, made accessible through Jesus Christ, that causes me to look to heaven often and say, "I love you, dad."
On the way back home from the park, Isaac broke the silence with a phrase that every father loves to hear...an unsolicted, "I love you, dad." On my way back to work I pondered the short experience with my son. I couldn't help but consider that the great works of God do inspire awe in my heart, but it is the simplicity and consistency of His presence, made accessible through Jesus Christ, that causes me to look to heaven often and say, "I love you, dad."
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