“Dear Lord and Father of mankind,
        forgive our foolish ways;”
if Father’s Day were only so simple.

Many of us can celebrate this day,
        in the all-American way;
for the all-American dad.

The dad who was there for every
        Little League game, come rain or heat.
The dad who never missed a dance recital,
        choral or theatre performance.
Soccer tournaments, triple-headers,
         Father-daughter dances, and cook-outs.
Always there, always supportive, always proud:
        whether we hit a homer or hit a sour note.
Thank you, Lord, for our script,
        for providing us with a father like you.

Oh God, how we wished this were the end;
        that this script was everyone’s story.
But we know, God, there is another side,
        and we must speak truth—Father’s day or not,
for the sake of those who cannot celebrate today,
        but for whom today is a day of terrifying reminders.

A reminder of the smell of alcohol,
        on his breath and his clothes.
The coke and weed, highs and the lows;
        getting to ride shotgun with dad to the store.
Walking in on dad with the other woman,
        who became my step-mom.
Trying so hard not to make dad angry,
        knowing what would come if I failed.
The “special love” when no one else was home,
        the shame, wondering if mom had a clue.
Keeping the family secret – a secret,
        memorizing each threat
        if I so much as hinted at the truth.

Does the church have a clue on Father’s Day?
        “Let’s have the fathers stand;
                gather ‘round them church.
        Let’s lay hands on these fine, godly men,
                leading their families to be Jesus-followers.”

I’d love to lay my hands on dad,
        but he’s with that other woman today.
Do my tears mean nothing?
        Will no one dare to speak the truth?
God, don’t you know? Don’t you care?
        Stop him! Set me high above so I can see.
Then lay your hands on him! And let me shout:
        “Happy Father’s Day Dad!”

Amen

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