This Father's Day will be different than any I've ever experienced before. This year, it's my turn. My beautiful son is only four months away from blessing this world with his grand "entrance." I would roll out the red carpet, but I'm not sure the doctors (or Natalie) would allow it. As I gaze into the beautiful sunset of blessings on the horizon, my soul is also overcome with anxiousness. Am I ready? Am I capable? Will I adequately raise him in the Lord, so that when he's older, he won't fall away?
It's only natural that I as I embark on this new journey called "Fatherhood", I reminisce about my relationship with my father, Danny Hawk. For the first month of my life, he held my hand as the doctors questioned if I would survive. As I grew older, his hand guided me through the pressures and temptations of life. His hand shook mine in pride when I walked across the stage at Harding Univeristy with diploma in hand. When I became a husband, his hand was ready to be the example of what a Godly husband should be. As long as there is air in my lungs, I will always "hold his hand". I'm his son. He's my dad. We wouldn't have it any other way.
Looking back at the last 24 years of blessings, I realize that "holding hands" began at birth. With my mother who is greater than gold, they didn't wait to form a relationship with me. As soon as my parents heard my first cry, our family unit was formed, and we began making memories. Now, as I think about the memories Natalie and I will form with our "gift" from God, I promise that for every smile, every tear, every special event, I'll be there. He's my son. I'm his dad. As my father held my hand, I'll always hold his.