http://www.newmanmag.com/article.php?sid=542&mode=thread&order=0
Posted on Tuesday, June 15 @ 09:15:21
It was Father's Day 1975, and I was just 5 months old, living in Long Island, New York. My dad was celebrating his first Father's Day.
That morning, he decided to let my mom sleep in and took care of me when I awoke. With only a few months of fatherhood under his belt, he didn't have the whole coordination thing down for such tricky tasks as changing a diaper and heating up a bottle at the same time.
So, he placed me on the diaper-changing table, while in an adjacent room in the tiny second-floor, dormer apartment he ran to take my bottle out of the boiling pot of water on the stove. Since I hadn't perfected the art of rolling over yet, he thought he would quickly run to get the bottle.
Well, I pulled off my first "surprise" that day and decided to roll over in that instant. My dad was in the other room, and he heard the ensuing thud, along with my mom and the startled landlord downstairs, Mrs. Cusumano, as I rolled off the diaper-changing table and plunged below to the carpeted floor, crying but unharmed.
Till this day I tease my dad about that first Father's Day. But even though his first Father's Day got off to a rocky start, my dad sure did make up for it the rest of my life in so many ways.
Whether it was running beside me as I rode a two-wheeler for the first time, building a dollhouse for me in our damp basement night after night for months, flying kites together, editing my English papers, helping me collect bugs for a school science project, praying for my sister and me every morning before we left the house for school or imparting in me a love for reading the spiritual classics and writing, he always made me feel like I was important to him.
And, till this day, even with him living more than 1,000 miles away, he's always just a cell-phone call away and never seems too busy for a pep talk or a prayer or for remembering me on Valentine's Day by asking a close friend of mine to buy roses and candy for me in his absence.
No dad is perfect, and I'm sure if you ask my dad what he coulda, shoulda, woulda done differently, he would be the first to admit his shortcomings. But, despite his flaws, God still used my dad to show me some of my first glimpses of what my heavenly Father is like.