My Dad and I live in two very different worlds. Divided by a lot more than just tens of thousands of miles of airspace that hovers over the continents and oceans. On any ordinary day, we live two very different lives and even speak two different languages. It's beyond weird.
And even though I think of my dad virtually every day, I haven’t talked to him in over a month. I’ve been sick. I’ve been tired. No real excuses except, maybe, that last time I called, my mom answered the phone.
Yesterday, just after I finished posting my latest entry about dads, Your Dad, My Dad, I felt I really needed to talk to my dad. So, I called:
‘Alo! It was him!
Tata... It's me.
Sometimes my Dad is hard of hearing so I have to repeat myself… louder.
What followed… well, it wasn’t so much the kind words that he said…or what we talked about… It was that he was sooo incredibly HAPPY, just tickled ... to hear my voice! So genuinely delighted and pleased and glad… just to hear the distinct vibration of my own vocal cords as they form syllables and words coming out of my mouth.
We chatted for a while… our usual stuff of gardening and science, neighbors and projects, health and weather, kids and school… But all through the conversation I could tell it really didn’t matter to him what we talked about, he was just so happy to have me on the other end of the line, and hear my voice… And that made me happy… just to have my Dad on the other end of the line, and hear his voice...
The feeling lingered long after I hung up the phone… and I wondered if our God… our Father is just as happy, just as tickled to hear our voice… to hear my voice…calling Him...
Dad? … Dad? TATA!
Call to Me and I will answer you, and I will tell you great and mighty things, which you do not know. Jeremiah 33:3