I wrote this Christian poem about fatherhood as a companion piece to Fatherhood, Faith, and the Love That Stays. It reflects on and celebrates earthly fathers, father figures, quiet love, prayer, memory, and the perfect love of God – our Father in heaven.
There is a love
that does not always speak first.
It waits in the doorway,
checks the lock,
fills the car,
asks if you have eaten,
and says very little
while meaning more than words can carry.
There is a love
that rises early,
returns tired,
prays quietly,
and keeps giving
in ways no one may count
until years have taught the heart
how to remember.
There is a love
that sounds like advice,
looks like provision,
feels like shelter,
and becomes, over time,
one of the quiet names
we give to home.
And yet,
before every earthly father,
before every good man
who tried to love well,
before the hands that worked,
the voices that guided,
the prayers that covered,
the stories that shaped us,
there was the Father
from whom all true love flows.
Our Father in Heaven,
holy, faithful, near.
The One who is not distant
when our stories ache.
The One who is not harsh
where love has already wounded.
The One who does not turn away
from the child who comes home.
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit —
one true God,
perfect in love,
steadfast in mercy,
gentle in welcome,
faithful in every promise.
So we give thanks
for the fathers who stayed,
for the fathers who tried,
for the fathers who prayed
when no one heard them,
for grandfathers
who carried family stories
like lanterns,
for mentors
who spoke courage
into trembling places,
for father figures
who became safe
not by title,
but by presence.
And we make room, too,
for the tender hearts —
for those who remember with tears,
for those who grieve what was missing,
for those who carry both gratitude
and ache in the same breath.
There is room for all of it
in the Father’s love.
Room for honour.
Room for honesty.
Room for memory.
Room for healing.
Room for the quiet prayer
that says,
Lord, teach us again
what love is meant to be.
Not love that performs.
Not love that disappears.
Not love that wounds
and calls it care.
But love that stays.
Love that blesses.
Love that restores.
Love that welcomes.
Love that covers.
Love that leads us home.
And perhaps this is why
we do not wait
for one day each year
to be grateful.
Every day is another mercy.
Every breath, another gift.
Every loved one,
another reason to pause
and thank the Giver of life.
For fathers.
For mothers.
For sisters and brothers.
For friends, mentors, families,
and the dear ones
God places along the road.
For the ordinary days
that become holy
when we finally notice
how much love has been there.
And for our Father in Heaven,
whose goodness does not fade,
whose arms do not tire,
whose mercy does not run out,
whose love does not leave.
The One who teaches us
how to love.
The One who welcomes us
when we return.
The One whose love
stays.
This poem is part of the Fatherhood, Faith, and the Love That Stays reflection series, a gentle collection on God our Father, earthly fathers, father figures, ordinary faithfulness, prayer, legacy, and tender Father’s Day stories.
Wishing all the men we know who tirelessly occupy these roles a very Happy Father’s Day.
