to all the papas [no, not mexican potatoes]
:: happy fathers day ::
to Heavenly Father
to my earthly father.
to my father in law.
to my grandfathers.
to those about to be fathers...to ben.
to all the men of God who protect and provide and pray for their families. thank you for being courageous leaders. may you be abundantly blessed and strengthened as you continue to model, on this earth, the love of our Heavenly Father. thank you for teaching us about responsibility, honor, compassion, diligence, and wisdom. thank you for your positive attitude, sense of humor, wise choices, discernment, and for keeping your promises.
and these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. you shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. you shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. you shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.
if you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you; if you can trust yourself when all men doubt you but make allowance for their doubting too; if you can wait and not be tired by waiting, or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies, or, being hated, don’t give way to hating, and yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
if you can dream—and not make dreams your master; if you can think—and not make thoughts your aim; if you can meet with triumph and disaster and treat those two imposters just the same; if you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, or watch the things you gave your life to, broken and stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools;
if you can make one heap of all your winnings and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, and lose, and start again at your beginnings and never breathe a word about your loss; if you can force your heart and nerve and sinew to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you except the will which says to them: “hold on!”
if you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, or walk with kings—nor lose the common touch; if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; if all men count with you, but none too much; if you can fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds’ worth of distance run— yours is the earth and everything that’s in it, and—which is more—you’ll be a man, my son!