A father’s arms

Back when I was in middle school, I had a newspaper route. Every day I would sling my newspaper bag over my shoulder, pick up my stack of newspapers on the corner of Hopkins and Pinehurst, and head to my route in Rodgers Forge.

I could handle the delivery on my own most days, but Sundays were a different story. I had more than 100 papers to deliver, and they were full of all the extra sections, comics and coupons. I couldn’t manage all those heavy newspapers in one trip. So, on Sunday mornings my father would wake me up in the darkness, and we would climb into our family van so we could make the delivery together.

In my memory, those mornings were always chilly and dark. I ran between the van’s open side doors and the houses as I gathered armfuls of newspapers for each stretch. My father always had the radio tuned to Gospel music, and the twangy harmonies would stream out into the darkness as we delivered.

When we finished, we climbed back in the van shivering and blasted the heat all the way home. Some mornings the sun was coming up as we pulled back into our parking spot.

Those were happy mornings for me, working alongside my father on a route I usually walked alone. At that age, I’m not sure I really recognized what a hassle it was for him that he had to get up extra early on a Sunday to help his little girl do a job that was allegedly hers – but was also too much for her to handle.

But that’s who my father is. He wouldn’t have made a big deal out of helping. He simply saw the need and met it. He was there when I needed him. And he never complained – or even let me know if he wanted to be anywhere else. He was there for me.

As my father turns 80 this fall, I find myself reflecting on how he has carried so much for his six children – and his 20 grandchildren – over the years.

He commuted 40 miles each way between Baltimore and Aberdeen for his entire career. He moved children in and out of numerous dorm rooms and apartments. He built bunk beds and bookcases and birdcage holders – and probably has another project planned right now.

He has baked hundreds of thousands of cookies for the people he loved – and even the guests at our wedding. Throughout his life, he made unbelievable sacrifices to make sure his children received excellent educations and had all the opportunities along the way.

He also helped instill in me a sense of wonder, a natural curiosity, an ability to connect with other people and a love of God. Fathers can be so extraordinary, and I am certainly grateful for mine.

Through their lives and actions, our fathers teach us about love – and especially about God’s love for us. Our heavenly Father is with us throughout the day, stepping in to help us, walking with us and supporting us when we have more than we can carry. His love is limitless, and there are no boundaries to what he will do to help us through whatever challenges we face.

“The good Lord does not do things by halves; He always gives what we need,” said St. Zélie Martin. “Let us then carry on bravely.”

So, we will continue on life’s journey, strengthened by those who walk beside us on Earth and also by our Father in heaven who loves us so completely. Whatever we are called to carry in this season, may we find the strength to walk on, thanks to God and his love, his goodness, his mercy and his presence in our lives.

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