A Letter To A Disabled Dad

Dear Dad,

I know things may not have gone your way today. You might not have even gotten out of bed. You may not have had any choice in the matter. Let me tell you that you matter anyway.

You may not have gone out to toss the ball with your son, or trim the lawn, or paint the shed that seems to weather in front of your eyes. Your honey-do list may be stale-dated, but your impact is as vital as the food on the table. You may not be able to provide any of the things you think your kids want, but their greatest wish is to see you better.

Dad, if you weren't there, who would your kids look to? You may see all the things you're not doing, but you don't see half of the things you really do! Your words, your thoughts about your kids mean the world to them. The same thoughts you may have had as a little boy are the ones they have of you. "I want my dad to be proud of me." "His approval means everything to me."

You see your weakness in your body. Instead, your kids see your strength in the face of a body that fails you. This is the strength they will look for inside themselves when they see their own failings in a world of challenges.

You feel like a burden to all you love and hold dear. They see you as someone they would carry on their shoulders across the face of the earth if you asked them to. It isn't the size of the burden, it's the size of the love that carries it that brings out the beauty in life.

Even when they fail you, even when you fail them, even when the words fly like weapons and the anger sears your heart, you matter. You see, it isn't that you're disabled. It's that you're there. You're there with the forgiveness, the love, the trust, the compassion, the patience and the wisdom God has given you. You matter because you're their dad. You're there, and no one can replace you. Maybe someone can be more eloquent, talented or able-bodied, but no one replaces you or your role in their lives.

Be the best dad by being there in the good and the bad. Everything else, we can work on.

Sincerely,

Another Disabled Dad