Staunton Star - Times - Published in the Interest of the Staunton Community for Over 143 Years

A quiet sorrow settles over my heart when Father’s Day arrives, as I find myself with a wild longing to reach out and touch two men I have seen and known. One was my grandfather, whom I often mention in this column and the other the father of my children’s lives. They were both strong working men and for the most part gentle men. I doubt that it had always been so, but somewhere along life’s journey they had gained the gifts of peace and wisdom.

My Pa had been a cowboy out on the plains of Colorado and grew up in a time of sagebrush, windmills, and open prairies. My David, an auto mechanic who found the purring of a smooth motor a true fancy to his soul. It wasn’t, however, the work-a-world moments when the goodness of their fathering ruled the home. It was rather, the quiet moments when the softness of their soul came through with love and fell like warm summer raindrops upon the small wards God had given them to cherish. For my grandfather, browned with the tan of an outdoorsman, it lingers in my memory by the lamp light in an old kitchen where life was shared when day was done. For David, it is the memory of life, lived beneath the shelter of kind generous arms. Sometimes, on Father’s Day and other good days around the year, I see my grandpa in the cornfield as the hot sun burns into his flesh and my David in a grease-covered pair of blue jeans as he raises his head to share a piece of his wisdom with his son and daughters, where they did fatherhood well, as a part of life lending love and repairing small things like a string of pearls all held together by an invisible chord, still holding the children’s heart to the father whose name they cherish. Happy Father’s Day and God keep you safe in his love.

Rev. Avis Richardson (ret.)