Daddy’s Home

Daddy’s Home!

By Steven J. Callis

 

I can still hear those words in my mom’s voice, “Wait until your daddy gets home.” She probably did not say it as often as I remember hearing it, but the words were real, spoken in two different contexts.

Sometimes I was being given a warning that the worst was yet to come concerning discipline for my misbehavior. I do remember being disciplined by my mom, but there were times when she delegated that duty to dad. Between you and me, that was my preference. I had tried mom’s patience until she had “had enough.” She was emotionally involved.

Dad, on the other hand, had been working all day and came home with his mind still on the job. Mom’s delegating put him in a somewhat awkward position, needing to implement the discipline, yet having no emotional connection to the offense. I would be hard pressed to call it the “wrath of dad.”

For much of my earlier grade school years, dad often traveled on business. On the day he was to return home from a trip, mom would remind my brothers and me, “Daddy’s coming home tonight. Wait until daddy gets home!” In this setting, these words were not stated as a threat, but as a promise.

For some reason, I do recall being allowed to stay up past my bedtime, eating ice cubes with mom and playing games until we heard the car in the driveway. Sometimes Daddy would bring home a surprise for his three boys, but not always. It did not matter, really. We were just glad to see him.

I loved my parents. I was blessed with a loving atmosphere at home, and my parents did all they could for their children. Mom taxied all of us to our designated ball fields and school buildings and church events. She offered plenty of TLC. Nevertheless, I seemed to have a closer bond with my dad. He was a very special man. His easy-going manner and the reassurance of his voice were such a comfort to me.

Well, it’s Father’s Day 2014, and Daddy’s home! In 1995, my Dad went “home” after only a one-year battle with cancer. I still miss him tremendously, but I do like the sound of how we say it. Some people call it the golden streets, or maybe the Promised Land, or the Pearly Gates, but I like “home.” The Bible refers to us as aliens in this world; strangers in a foreign land because heaven, not the world, is our home.

How I would cherish being with Dad today; maybe take him out for lunch and give him a dozen golf balls as an expression of my love and appreciation. Instead, I rest in the assurance that he is at home with his Father, his heavenly Father, enjoying this day to its fullest. It cannot get any better than that! Happy Father’s Day, Dad.

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One Comment on “Daddy’s Home”


  1. What a lovely tribute! Well done.


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