Just a song I remember Dad singing...
Heavenly warfare, duct-tape, Band-Aids....
and stories that were ALMOST true.
These are the tools and the weapons a good dad keeps close at hand,
A dad just like mine.
And how many times, I wonder
Is there a number?
The many, many times he defied the odds, like superman he leapt that mountain, or building, or bridged that dam...
He’d take the chance, step forward on faith and a prayer, Just to hold it all together for the sake of the family.
How many? What’s the number?
I can’t count the days when smiles were REAL
...and others held on with hope and bravado.
Father knew we…THE KIDS
His and hers, theirs and ours…
We were all watching.
Dad knew we searched his face closely to see
everything was alright?
So he dared not shed that tear.
Instead, he’d growl like a bear, tell that same silly, unbelievable, story
Yep, he’d tell it so we'd just about believe it once again…
“you know there was an alligator in the backyard once”
…or maybe the one about the "tortoise that climb up the swamp bank" , "the opossum the neighbor lady made into a roast for dinner one day with an apple in its mouth"
He declared it, long ago, back in the south.
and we’d all laugh and roll on….
Chuckling like life was filled with wonder again.
Because Dad knew we were watching
… and he’d roll on the floor like one of us too.
These are the tools and the weapons of a Father, No...
a Dad who knows the children see everything.
Faith, hope, prayer, love BUT also…
Heavenly warfare, duct-tape, Band-Aids
….and stories that were ALMOST true
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