Dear God,
It’s been a very long time since I got up at this hour to write—perhaps not since I lived in Oregon. Even then it did not become routine. Being up at this hour reminds me of the times of old when I would go to the riverfront to write.
As I think about going back to begin my family life, I realize that I could get up and have a few minutes alone with you each day before my family begins its day. The thought comforts me.
So, those are my thoughts this morning. What’s on your mind and heart today?
My dear and glorious son,
I praise you. I sing to the heavens of the glory that is you. It has been a very long times since you got up specifically just to write with me. I do love it when we can spend this magic hour together.
This hour just at the break of dawn has always been very magical for me, for us.
I am glad that the memory warms your heart as it does mine. My dear and glorious son, my heart is truly warmed this morning. I am filled with my love for you—and my heart is warmed by your continued faith.
As you know, I don’t think of myself as being particularly faithful. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I am a man of faith but I seem to hold the idea of being faithful for those of the clergy. I think of the orders of monks who get up to say prayers or orders of sisters who hold prayer vigils every day. These are acts of devotion. I am but an ordinary man of faith.
While I do not always appreciate when you try to minimize yourself in comparison to others, I do celebrate you this day as an “ordinary man of faith.”
Regardless of your own judgments, you do have an extraordinary faith—a faith in love, in life, in yourself and, yes, with me. Many, many, and many times you have acted in faith beyond reason. Even this morning is beyond reason.
You are tired, your bed beckons you, yet here you sit watching the sun come up. And what is the reason for this, my son? Is there some burden upon your heart? Is there something on your mind? The answer to all of these questions is no.
The simple truth is that you got up to write simply in remembrance that we once did so. This is a sign of both your faith and your devotion.
Do not think that you do not measure up against my devoted, or my most devoted—for you do. I have said it before and repeat it again this morning—you are one of the most faithful men I know.
I rejoice in those words. I am a man of great faith, and perhaps even a great man of faith.
My dear and most loving son, you are a great man of love as well. You continually allow your heart—your love—to guide your life. You recently attend a class on “Anchoring the Heart-Centered Life.” You could have just as easily taught the class as to have attended it.
You cannot be much more anchored than to live your everyday life in such a manner.
Even now, in these moments, in these quiet moments of faith and devotion, your mind and heart are filled with thoughts of what you have come to think of as “your family.” This is an extraordinary feat of your heart.
I pray that you do not glorify me today for my thoughts for all this is new to me. It is easy to them (my family) on my mind and heart this morning.
Please, my dear God, hold your glory for the morning when being part of a family becomes routine. Wait until getting up early before my family starts its day just so I can spend with you becomes routine. Wait until that day to sing my praises.
But for today, I praise and glorify those fathers who get up at the crack of dawn to go to jobs that they don’t necessarily like just to provide for their families. They are tired and don’t have the time to spend with you before they start their days. I cannot and will not judge them as being faithless because they do not start their days with devotions with you. I do not start my day with devotions to you either. Do not sing my praises.
It is too late for such requests or even demands. I will sing your praises as I see fit. Just as I sing the praises of fathers and mothers who get up at the crack of dawn to trudge off to thankless jobs—all in an effort to provide for their families.
I grant that you do not yet have a routine of devotion. I acknowledge you do not yet get up before the dawn just to spend a little time with me before spending time with your family as they start their day. I acknowledge all of that. Just as I acknowledge that it is on your heart to do so.
I reiterate—you are a great man of faith, a man of great faith. Few men in your situation would see the advantage of getting up early to spend time with me. They would not see or understand the benefit for their families. Few men. And I will and do sing your praises accordingly. I sing to the heavens on your behalf.
I never thought I would have such a family. It is such a precious, precious gift that I do not think I would have appreciated at a previous time in my life. I think I would have only seen the burden--a consequence to my actions.
This family is a consequence of your actions; it is a consequence of your heart. These children do not come from your loins, yet you love them so dearly. You love them so dearly that tears came to your eyes out of gratitude. Do you realize how great of a man of heart, of faith that you are? Yet you think, it is untold for me to sing your praises?
My dear God, I come to family late in my life; at a time when I can appreciate the gift that such a family is.
I observe that many men only truly appreciate their families as it matures. I think they get so caught up in the routine of providing for and raising their families that they take it for granted. I think the moments that they cherish their families is fleeting. I do not wish--in any way--to diminish their devotion to their families for I do know they love their families.
But, my dear Lord, I have not done anything to bring this family into fruition. I do not know what it means to be responsible for a family--neither in its creation or in its continued sustenance. I have not been burdened by said responsibilities--and in fact will not be so burdened with this family. I am not currently burdened with going to a job to provide for said family.
So it is easy for me to cherish this family, to cherish "my" family. I am grateful for this opportunity, but it does not mean I am worthy of your praise. Instead, my dear Lord, hold your praise for those men, for those women who have been responsible for their actions. Praise those who get up and start another day even though they are tired. Praise those who do not have the time to start their days with devotions to you because they are devoted to their families. Praise those who are so devoted to their families that they lose themselves—they forget who they are except in the context of family.
My dear son, I realize you are on a tirade for all the unsung, under-praised heroes of all the unsung families—but I will not allow you to dismiss the significance of what you are doing.
It cannot be ignored that many have observed you to be an extremely selfish man who has done what he wanted when he wanted. Many thought your actions of retiring to go off to write a book—even if it was with me—to be a very selfish act. Some even thought it as the act of being irresponsible.
Few, I repeat, few saw it as the act of faith it was. And few will see you going back to Illinois to be the head of this family as the act of it is as well. But I see it, I know it to be such an act and I do sing your praises because of it!
I do not care if they understand why I do what I do.
And I repeat—you are a great man of faith, man of great faith.
More than a few will think this is something that I am playing at and that I will not be responsible for my actions. They will wonder how long I will stick to this. And I must admit that I wonder too. My dear Lord, I have been lead to many things—mostly by you—and I fear that this is just one more thing.
In the past my actions did not much matter as I was responsible only for myself. But now, my actions will affect many—my entire family.
To this point, I have thought to abandon my faith in my path. The simple fact is that for the last decade my life has been driven by my faith—I have lived from the heart. I have repeatedly been driven to the brink of financial ruin. In fact, I was driven to financial ruin—all due to my faith or maybe by my misguided faith.
I cannot allow my faith or the following of my faith to harm my family. I cannot. I will not! This is the great dilemma set before me. Do I take up my pen and boldly go forth or do I allow it gather dust in the tranquil confines of my family. I cannot put my family at risk. I wonder if it is better to abandon that which I am called to do rather than to harm my family.
I repeat—you are a man of great faith, a great man of faith. You are one of the most faithful men I know.
I repeat, you are a man of great faith, a great man of faith.
Surely, my son, it is not lost on just how unique this family is for you. It is nearly perfect. There is no need of you to be financially responsible for this family.
In these moments, you have no plans to get a job to provide for this family. It is not your responsibility to do so. But there is a need within this family that you are uniquely qualified for. They have need of your heart, of your love, and, yes, of your faith.
I do not think you realize the full extent of the impact you can have upon this family.
I have often left broken hearts in my wake. If feels to me that at times I have done more damage than good.
My greatest fear is to break these young girls’ hearts. And I cannot see how that can be a good thing. If I had any real backbone, I would refuse to enter into their lives.
Then why are you? If you are a man of such ill-will—then why are you entering this woman’s life, let alone these young girls’ lives?
It is possible that my path will only intersect with the girls’ path for a short time—a matter of years. It does not seem probable but it is certainly possible.
Yet I have the faith that if this is the case then this too would be perfection. I have the faith that while I may not understand the perfection of such an event, it would be perfect nonetheless. If I dwell upon the thought of leaving these girls, of this woman and of the broken hearts I would leave behind, my heart aches and I am will not be able to step into this relationship.
IF such an event occurred, your heart would be broken as well.
It was broken the last time I left. I think many people thought it was easy for me to leave. I did so with great faith—but it was not easy nor has it been easy to live my life of faith.
Beyond my the breaking of my own heart there was the breaking of this woman’s heart when I left her. She had the faith to wait for me but I also know the pain of her heart.
My faith life and the following of its path is not worth the pain of others.
The question is not whether such pain is worth it but if you are going to waste such sacrifice. Many, many people believe in your path, in your story, in y-our book. They have been willing to sacrifice their love—including their heartache—because they believe in you. Are you going to ignore their sacrifice?
You speak as if I have already abandoned my path.
Are you not considering doing so? Are your thoughts not currently filled with the idea that “a responsible adult” does not enter into a family with the idea of leaving it?
Never mind that I have never even hinted that I would ask such a thing of you—it is still on your mind. Your greatest fear is that I would bring you into most fulfilling relationship of your life and then have you abandon it to follow your path of faith.
Never mind that I have repeatedly indicated that this relationship—this family—is a necessary step in your evolution. Never mind that I have indicated the necessity of you being grounded within this family. Never mind that this family has given you every indication that they are ready to fully love you—to embrace all that you are.
Never mind all that—you still fear that you may abandon this family, and you further fear that if—by some act of God—did abandon them that it would be somehow less than perfect. Beyond all that—beyond all your fears—you claim, I repeat claim to believe that I send you nothing but angels and perfection.
So, Richard, what is it to be? Falling prey to your fears or embracing your beliefs?
There is nothing but my faith life—even as it leads me into this woman’s life and her daughters’ lives. But I do like to acknowledge the possibilities and the consequences thereof.
I am very aware of the consequences of your faith life. I have known them since before you were born. I knew them before your mother’s, mother’s, mother’s, mother’s birth. Your impact upon the world cannot be overstated.
My dear and beloved son, your impact upon others lives is equal to Neale’s impact upon your life. His work literally changed your life. It set you on your own course. You have not made it the gospel according to Neale but have taken it into your heart and use it to live your life. It is literally the anchor of your heart-centered life.
So let me remind you of one simple and profound truth. It was not, nor is Neale’s words that impacted your life—but mine. He received my words just as you receive my words. As much as Neale’s words serve as an anchor so do your words anchor you within me.
My dear and glorious son, you are anchored within my words. So too will it be with others who read my words through you. This is your calling. Do not fear it, but embrace it. I have brought you to this moment in perfection.
You do not fully realize just how momentous this move into relationship is to our work. You feel it far too much about “the human experience” and far too little about your faith. I tell you yet again, you have but one life—your faith life.
So let me say once again—as you contemplate stepping into being the head of this family, of your family—you are one of the most faithful men I know.
You are a man of great faith, a great man of faith.
So, beloved son, keep the faith!
