Go and Be a Father

A man lies in his bed, his heart hefty, his shoulders burdened. Alas he knows not what bears down upon him. He cradles within his covers, stirring side to side, disheartened. A voice of relief sounds to deafen the grim. My son, as a father I know its toils, and the outcome uncertain. I know of sacrifices you endure only to provide. I have felt the hurt when you are not a priority to your children. Harder than these is setting your children aside. You’re not destined to begin a cycle of pain and abandonment. That cycle will carry on through the generations. The worst pain, my son, is when you come before my judgment. This is when I give to you my truthful summation. I gave to you my only begotten son so that you shall not perish. I sat aside as they whipped the flesh from his skin. I saw the crown of thorns adorning the face so many cherished. I saw him nailed to a cross he carried for their sin. They cut my son; they bled him out, and left him bloody to die. Yet in bed you’re unsure why you are encumbered. You hesitate to give lives you made the fortune of a decent life. Fatherhood’s blessings are beyond being numbered. When they fail or succeed; when they smile and call you father. When the first born is blessed with your first name, These blessings answer why you must be privileged to bother. Rise from your bedding as I have raised the lame. Go my son, go and be a Father.