I grew up in a loving home. I never saw my parents quarrel and hardly witnessed any disagreement between them. My dad treated my mom with utmost love and respect, so much so that if you weren’t told, you wouldn’t be able to tell that there was a 12-year margin between them. I would later find out that such a margin was the exception rather than the rule.

I grew up in a godly home. As a kid, I wasn’t a big fan of the early morning and night family devotions, but it wasn’t a thing of choice. It was a non-negotiable obligation for every member of the household.

Every morning, without fail, we all gathered in our sitting room at 6:30 am and spent the next hour setting the tone for the day in communal fellowship, and most times, my dad led those sessions. At night, we reconvened in the same location to close off the day in prayers before retiring. In retrospect, those practices laid the foundation for my walk with God.

I grew up watching my dad assume the office of a priest over his home. Some days, I would wake up in the middle of the night, and there he was, tarrying on the altar of prayer on our behalf while we slept. His priesthood extended beyond his home as he faithfully serves in several capacities in God’s house.

I grew up in a disciplined home. Whenever I erred, I wasn’t spared the consequences. Sometimes, I was corrected with the rod, but also with love.

My dad made sure to instil the right principles in me. Whenever he dropped me off at school at the start of the term or when my family visited, I was sure to receive fatherly admonition. He often concluded with the words, “to whom much is given, much is expected”. Looking back, those father and son moments helped set me on the right path.

I grew up in a friendly home. It still baffles me how my dad manages to accommodate everyone he interacts with. His “circle of friends” consists of people from several walks of life and spans every social stratum. He is as friendly to highly placed officials as he is to those who aren’t so well to do. It is not strange to see him having a friendly conversation with the locals, communicating fluently in their own dialect. He is a man of the people.

I was privileged to grow up under the guidance of the best dad I could ever ask for. He might not be perfect —no one is—but he sure raised the bar of fatherhood really high. His love for his family knows no bounds, and he will go to any length to ensure we are comfortable.

I can go on and on… but it is simply inexhaustible.

*****

Dear Dad,

I love and cherish you, much more than I express. Thank you for all that you do for us. Thank you for giving me a glimpse of ABBA’s love long before I came to know Him for myself. Thank you for all the sacrifices you’ve made, and continue to make to see me thrive. I do not take any of it for granted. I pray that you will live long enough to reap the fruits of your tireless labour.

Happy Father’s Day.