Father’s Day Tribute and God’s Gift of Second Chances

Father’s Day Tribute. My father was one of the great ones. Some dads need a second chance. Here’s a shout out to a father who got a do-over.

Everyone deserves a second chance

and fathers going through hard places,

maybe from mistakes they’ve made or hard luck,

then stepping up to the plate in even a small way,

need a second chance.

Father’s Day is coming up…

Here’s a tribute to fathers with sad stories,

and to families with sad father stories.

To boys who died before they could grow up and become fathers,

and fathers who lost their way and their families.

My heart sends prayers for all who feel less-than in their father stories.

So I want to share this story I read long ago, about a father who got a second chance.

I don’t know the source of this story.  If anyone does, I would like to give proper credit.  The mother’s name is Nancy, and she shared this tribute with a magazine that is no longer in print.

Father’s Day Tribute: A Second Chance

We were the only family with children in the restaurant.  I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly eating and talking.

Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, “Hi, there.”  He pounded his fat baby hands on the high-chair tray.  His eyes were wide with excitement while his mouth was bared in a toothless grin.  He wriggled and giggled with merriment.

I looked around and then saw the source of his glee.  It was a man with a tattered rag of a coat; dirty, greasy and worn.  His pants were baggy and his toes poked out of would-be shoes; shirt dirty and hair uncombed and unwashed.  His whiskers were too short to be called a beard below a nose so varicose it looked like a road map.

We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled.  His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists.  “Hi there, baby; hi there, big boy.  I see ya, buster,” the man said to Erik.

My husband and I exchanged looks, “What do we do?”

Erik continued to laugh and answer, “Hi, hi there.”  Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us, and then at the man.

The old geezer was creating a nuisance
with my baby.
Did he deserve a second chance?

Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room, “Do ya know patty cake?  Do you know peek-a-boo?  Hey, look, he knows peek-a-boo!”

Nobody thought the old man was cute.  He was drunk.  My husband and I were embarrassed.  We ate in silence; all except Erik, who was still carrying on his baby-like conversation with the admiring skid row bum.

We finally got through the meal and headed for the door.  My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot.  The old man sat poised between me and the door.  “Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik,” I prayed.

As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to side-step him and avoid any air he might be breathing.  Then as I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby’s “pick-me-up” position.

Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man’s.

Suddenly a very old smelly man
and a very young baby
consummated their love relationship.

Erik, in an act of total trust, love and submission, laid his tiny head upon the man’s ragged shoulder.  The man’s eyes closed, and then I saw tears hover beneath his lashes.  His aged hands full of grime, pain and hard labor – gently, so gently cradled my baby and stoked his back.

No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time.  I stood awestruck.  The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms for a moment, and then his eyes opened and set squarely on mine.  He said in a firm commanding voice, “You take care of this baby.”

Somehow I managed, “I will,” from a throat that contained a stone.

He pried Erik from his chest – unwillingly, longingly, as though he were in pain.  I received my baby, and the man said,

“God bless you ma’am,
you’ve given me a great gift.”

I said nothing more than a muttered thanks.  With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car.  My husband wondered why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, “My God, my God, forgive me.”

I had just witnessed Christ’s love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes.

I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not.  I felt it was God asking “Are you willing to share your son for a moment?” – when He shared His for all eternity.

The ragged old man unwittingly reminded me, “To enter the Kingdom of God, we must become as little children.”

This is my Father’s Day Tribute.
May all children and all fathers receive God’s Gift of a Second Chance,whether they need a small miracle or a large.

Read more Tributes to Fathers in this post or this post.

Purchase original embellished kimenink© Father’s Day card designs: Vintage Gears or Deer in the Woods.