Sometimes they appear at night. A bouncing lamp leading the way. Sometimes my headlights cross their path and the glitter of reflective tape appears out of the shadows. I’ve even seen them in the fog, far across town, and many miles from home. A father and his son on an infinite journey.
I must admit that every time I see them, I’m a bit envious. I never had a dad. Not like this one, anyway.
I think the first time they appeared was just after sunrise on a Sabbath, many years ago. We had just moved into the neighborhood and I was out walking as they appeared in the distance. The gentleman was jogging with his tiny son, who was in a push stroller. Years have passed, and after crossing paths many times, I’ve come to realize that the child is disabled, perhaps with cerebral palsy. They’re always jogging together. Day and night, rain or sunshine; they are eternal companions, it seems.
Today, as we passed, I waved and shared a friendly greeting with the jogger, and I received a cheerful wave and a sweet utterance from the child in the stroller. Yet this time, for some reason, the image of him running while pushing his disabled son remained on my mind. Perhaps it was the joyous wave and guttural shout from the child that stirred my heart. What love this father must have for his son. For almost a decade, I’ve witnessed the journey of a dad that will not surrender his child for anything less than everything he has. And thus, I was blessed to witness the joy on his child’s face, and the cheer he let out as they passed me with his arm raised high. With all his ailments, he was happy because dad was there, and they were together on their journey—each mile a memorial of love.
My eyes watered a bit as I looked back at the father, treading heavily as they vanished around the corner. That father knows his son’s greatest efforts may never equal that of a healthy child, but his father’s love does not care. He will never let go of that stroller. His son’s best efforts are enough for him. Daddy will forever supply the rest. He will drive them forward against all odds, and the only fuel he truly needs is his son’s willingness to take the journey with him.
Ahead of them may lie a blizzard or even a marathon—and no doubt, a great many obstacles. But that child will be okay because no matter what happens, his father will be there with him—his towering sentinel in the storm. And as they approach the sunset of their journey, they will both benefit from their time together. A time that will last as long as there is breath in either of their lungs. And then it will last forever.
As I watched them vanish from sight, I was truly envious. But while I’ve never had a dad to run with, I have had a Father to push me along. He is never winded nor weary, and He drives me forward, even through the fog. And thou I’m no longer a child, and I’m held to a higher standard, I can’t help but feel a bit crippled by the past. Perhaps our Father leaves a few bruises to keep us humble.
As I get older, my mind has slipped just a bit, but there are some things I never want to forget. Like the cheerful voice of that child as he waved his twisted fist and contorted elbow. I didn’t understand what he said, yet it had more meaning than a thousand words. He said, “Look at me and my dad!”
May God bless us all on the journey ahead, because life is not a sprint, it’s a marathon.
“And He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness….’” 2 Corinthians 12:9.
