[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Hallmark-Father’s Day has come and gone. This is the third year in a row that I haven’t scrutinized drugstore greeting cards, inspecting unknown artists’ sentimental renderings to share with my dad. If I sound cynical it’s not because I think Father’s Day is primarily a shrewd marketing campaign whereby Hallmark profits matter most. I’m disenchanted because my PaPa is no longer here to share a sappy Hallmark card with. [Insert river-crying emoji]
A loving, kind earth father is rare. I was blessed with one. [Thankfully, we ALL have a loving, kind heavenly Father.] But, loving, kind, compassionate earth father’s are rare indeed.
If my Papa had been here on Father’s Day this year I would have done something different. I would forego the drugstore card aisle and do something all my own, like author my own greeting:
Happy Father’s Day — eternally — no beginning, no end.
Your kindness, thoughtfulness, quiet nature and laughter are ingrained. Your passion, compassion, and rich, rich, rich soul…never forgotten. I miss your gentle energy filling the room. I miss you.
The last three years, I’ve frowned past the Hallmark aisle, cynically-saddened. Father’s Day is stupid…only Hallmark cares about the third Sunday in June, $$$…nobody else cares.
But this year, I put cynicism to rest. Every day is Father’s Day if you have or had a wonderful earth Dad (and if you celebrate The heavenly Father).
No more greetingless third Sundays in June. I’m sending custom-designed greetings straight into heaven and beyond from now on.
We all miss our [great] Dads who are no longer here in June and every other day too. If Hallmark aisles remind you about your loss, try what I did and write your own [sappy], spiritual greeting.
RIP to all. We will miss you until we see you again, with Jesus.
Thank you for reading!
In other news:
Here she is as of June 25:
You may notice the paper has a honeycomb texture. I chose this texture because it was all I had in the basement. But it’s turning out to be a good “accidental” experiment. The honeycomb prevents over erasing and too much tip pressure. One thing is for sure, my pace is that of a snail. [/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]
Last week’s blog[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]