Rooted Fatherhood
/
I stood next to the casket of my beloved father-in-law and my knees literally shook with cold and grief. The sorrow on the face of his devoted bride remains etched in my memory.
Broken. We all felt broken. One of the grandsons articulated the feeling as that of being untethered… unmoored.
A good man grows roots in the ground and stays put for his family. They tease about his routines, his stubbornness, and his predictable jokes. And while they kid and flourish…
The roots grow deeper. Solid. Unshakable.
They know this… a little. Until he is gone and then they KNOW…
That he has been rooted and they are the branches. They have felt a faint shaking of earthquakes, the heat of fires, and the gusts of strong winds… but it is the rooted father who digs deeply and secures the family while they grow. He takes the blows, the flames, the deep shakings.
Every day, his supplications and prayers of thanksgiving rise to the creator. The sun rises and sets. He gets up and does what men do. He toils and he counsels. He kneels and he rests. He battles sin and enemy and elements.
Rooted.
I know what my son meant when he said he felt adrift. We are experiencing a bit of vertigo as the roots shift (but remain) beneath us…
The men seem to feel it uniquely. That they have been loved and raised and held up by a good man, rooted in strength and courage and fidelity. And that they are also made for that greatness.
There is a quickening of life in the presence of death. World events add to the feeling. That now is not the time for weak men, addicted men, immoral men, or timid men…
It is time to take root.
Blessed be God forever.
“Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked,
nor stands in the way of sinners,
nor sits in the seat of scoffers;
but his delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on his law he meditates day and night.
He is like a tree planted by streams of water,
that yields its fruit in its season,
and its leaf does not wither.
In all that he does, he prospers.”
Psalm 1:1-3
