I am horrible with holidays. Really. If the entire world didn't remind me to get my Christmas shopping done, I never would. I've been known to forget my own birthday, as well as having been totally taken by surprise by those of my own children. So, these media-driven, Hallmark-created fauxdays? Hopeless. Not that we don't observe Father's Day. But, trust me, it's nothing to build a 7-minute morning news segment around. Gifts are always modest--think, $20 range. We go to church, go home, nap, then hit a restaurant after the post-worship lunch crowd has thinned out. It's basically the same as Mother's day, only we go to Chuy's instead of Outback.
Actually, in recent years, Father's Day has been pretty painful. Oh, I still have my own father, but my brother passed away a few years ago, and with every commercial hawking ties and grills, I think about my neice and nephew watching that same commercial with a hole in their heart. And this year...well, this is the first Father's Day since the death of my husband's dad, so I've been kind of dreading it. Turns out, though, God (and my father-in-law) had a plan.
See--this weekend, my hubby is in Las Vegas. Yep. Vegas, with his brothers. Courtesy of their father's last wish. See, in his will, he left money specifically for his boys to have a weekend together in his beloved vacation spot. Whether or not he intended it to be over this weekend...dunno. But this was the weekend that worked for everyone, so I think it's absolutely fine. I don't need a commercially-imposed celebration of the father my husband is. He's a terrific dad every day, and we love him and honor him 365 days a year. (OK, 364--I steal the spotlight in May.)
So, on Sunday, I'll be sitting around with my boys--maybe just eating pizza--and texting their father occasionally to remind him (and his brothers)to stay out of trouble. I'll know in their bizarre, Pittman way, they're honoring their earthly father even as my boys will be thanking their Heavenly father for giving them such a great dad.