Thankful on his Birthday for Papa

There was once a rather large and unusual man who had a rather large and unusual heart, and a rather large and unusual family. Full of flaws and creativity. Overflowing with the grace and favor of God. The most large and unusual characteristic about said family was that more children constantly appeared at their doorstep. At their table. Each one needed a Mama. Each one needed a Papa. Each one came with a broken heart.
Some came from a different culture, or language or background. Some for a season. Some for a lifetime. Some merely needed advice or prayer. Some kept them on their knees crying out to the Heavenly Father night after night.
But each child had purpose. Had gifts from the Almighty to share. Oodles of wonderful talent and were amazingly, supernaturally wise.
Papa and Mama understood that. And they cared. And they prayed. They nurtured and they fussed. And they loved. Because they both agreed. Kids were more important than self. More important than status or position. More important than glory or mammon. It didn't matter to Papa if he was rich or poor. He knew the Lord wanted them to pour forth. So they did. They taught each child the love of Jesus (the best they could), because without the love of Jesus all other learning is pointless anyway.
Sometimes Papa made big mistakes. Sometimes Mama did. But always they loved. Love does not always come in the form of warm hugs and kisses and a mug full of hot chocolate. Sometimes love comes in the form of pushing a child from the nest.
Being a Papa and a Mama is a tough and dirty job. Every once in a while that dirt sticks. But that's why there is a Savior. To wash us clean again. That is what made Papa so great. He loved Jesus as his Savior.
The point of all this rambling is simple enough.
If one has all the gifts and talents in the world, but has not love, all the other gifts are pointless. Love covers a multitude of sin. Love is something Papa was full of. And still is.
How do I know?
Because I am Mama. And I am blessed to be his wife.
Happy birthday, Papa Bear. Your quiver is full.
You are and always will be my hero.

Yesterday my youngest son went out in the  field and chose an old, broken tree so his mama could have wooden slices for Christmas decorations. The bottom of the tree, bore these... Love says it all, my beloved tribe. Forgive and love.


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