Maybe you didn’t have the best relationship with your earthly dad. Don’t let that stand in the way of falling into the arms of your heavenly one! This Fathers Day, my prayer is that you honor the Dad who knows you best. He’s right here ready to wrap loving arms around you. Run to Him…and be safe.
My dad didn’t really know his birth father. That man abandoned his family when my dad was very young. Sad, huh? At 16, however, after his mother’s death from tuberculosis, my father was adopted by my grandad and grandmother. – More on that story later.
Today, to celebrate Fathers Day, I present the legacy of my dad and my adoptive grandad. So…
Let’s pack our bags and go to the Cabin.
In 1949, my dad, Glenn, was only 18 years old. He was skinny and handsome with a wonderful shock of brown hair and dazzling blue eyes. His adoptive father was much older, with horn-rimmed, round glasses and a wide smile. Grandad was an educated, adventuresome engineer, He had a vision.
Dad and Grandad rumbled down dusty rocky roads, fording creeks and spinning tires on rolling hills.
The Packard stopped on a random hillside. You could hear a spring-fed river “shirring” gently below the trees. Grandad tossed a rock down the hillside. “That’s where I want the cabin,” he told Otho, a local handyman and carpenter. Otho (I am told) hitched his thumbs in his overalls, nodded in agreement, and set to work cutting and planing local cedars. Grandad and Glenn began to build.
I grew up there.
My three daughters grew up there.