Donuts with Dad

At the beginning of the new year, Victoria told me that I needed to mark a very special day on my calendar in the month of March. She said, "Whatever you do, you do not want to miss this important date." "What's that?", I asked. She said, "It's Donuts with Dad's Day at Poppy's kindergarten class." That day came with great anticipation and fanfare yesterday, March 26th.

The build-up was quite phenomenal, I must say. The nearer the date approached, the more times per day that Poppy would remind me that our special time was coming closer. And each night during this last week I would whisper in Poppy's ears as she went down for bed, "Just (___) more days until Donuts with Dads." She'd look at me with a big grin on her face and sort of giggle while saying out of the same breath, "Daaaaaddd."

When I came to the school yesterday afternoon (I left work early and made sure I gave myself enough cushion just in case), I could see all of the dad's mingling around the front door of the classroom. Some seemed to know one another - I sort of sat on a bench by myself and enjoyed the warmth of the clear Spring day shining on my face. In fact, I caught a few zzzzzz while laying on that bench waiting for my sweet little Pop-Tart to pop out of the room. About five or ten minutes went by, and then I could hear the pitter-patter of feet approaching me. As I looked up, there was Poppy with the biggest smile on her face, running full speed ahead with pigtails bobbing, straight for the bench I was sitting on. It was so cute to see all those children scurrying so busily and proudly toward their daddy's, each one wanting to make a quick connection, almost to signal that their dad was there in full few for all to see.

She gave me a big bear hug, grabbed my hand, walked me into the classroom, sat me down in my special chair, and then proceeded to the front with all of the other children. They then sang several songs, showed a slide show that would rip just about any dad's heart out of their chest, and then each walked up to a microphone and said why they thought their dad was special to them. Poppy said I was special because I let her go outside and play (seemed rather random, but I loved it nonetheless - didn't really matter what she said). We then sat down at another table together, and she asked me what kind of donut I wanted. After telling her, she brought two back, one for her and one for me. She drank some milk and I drank some orange juice. I looked around the room while Poppy wasn't noticing and couldn't help but be in awe of every dad and child in connection with one another that afternoon. It was a sight to behold, and it was then that I fully grasped why I simply could not let this date slip through my calendar. Dad's are special. Every child needs one, and for those who don't have one for whatever reason, it's a sorrow of unconscionable magnitude. For many it cannot be helped, but for those fortunate enough to have one, and one that loves even remotely like designed (meaning like our Father God Himself), then they've just caught a slight glimpse of a love that cannot be substituted by anything else. I pondered during those moments where Poppy might have been had God not so graciously and divinely appointed that the two of us be father and daughter for the rest of our lives. No doubt she has another father out there on the other side of the world who she has no conscious memory of. All she now knows as a father is me. And I can tell she's secure in me, feels loved by me, is safe with me, and is cared for through me. These things I give to her freely and with such great happiness. And when I see and feel her respond to me like she does, not because she thinks she's going to get something from me, but just because, then I want all the more to give her everything I have. She has no ulterior motives in those moments; she's just down right proud and down right in love.

My children set me right with God. They put me in a place where I stop working so hard, and I just relax knowing that I need do nothing but rest my head on His chest, wrap my arms around Him, look out and think to myself, "Everyone should have a Father like this." Unlike Poppy, I cannot be that all-perfect father for all of the other children in the classroom, and I can't even be that one for her. They all think they've already got there's, but there's One even better, and He can indeed be the perfect Father to all, to all who call upon Him.

Time to have a donut with our Dad. That's right, a donut. And He'll even serve you the one you want, and you can drink orange juice, listen to Him gloat over you, and tell all of the other children around you, "Come, and let me be your Dad too, and I'll make you as happy as this little boy is right here."

Dunkin' a Donut,