Meeting Him Here<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"I once heard a rabbi tell a tale about a father and his son. They had fought many years before and feelings were hurt on both sides. The son moved far\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/rebeccafrech\/2009\/12\/meeting-him-here.html\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Meeting Him Here\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"I once heard a rabbi tell a tale about a father and his son. They had fought many years before and feelings were hurt on both sides. 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{"id":1017,"date":"2009-12-17T09:25:00","date_gmt":"2009-12-17T09:25:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/admin.patheos.com\/blogs\/rebeccafrech\/2009\/12\/meeting-him-here.html"},"modified":"2014-08-22T16:03:39","modified_gmt":"2014-08-22T21:03:39","slug":"meeting-him-here","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/rebeccafrech\/2009\/12\/meeting-him-here.html","title":{"rendered":"Meeting Him Here"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<\/head>

One day, the father sent a messenger to his son who said, \u201cYour father says, \u2018My son, I love you. Please come back to me.'\u201d<\/p>\n

The son said in reply, \u201cThere has been too much hurt. I can not return to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

The father again sent the messenger to say, \u201cSo much time has passed. Let us leave it in the past where it belongs. My son, I love you, please return to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Again the son refused, \u201cThere has been too much time, and my life has gone on without you. I am still in too much pain. I can not return to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

The father wept bitter tears, grieving for his lost child. Then he tried one last time, and the messenger said, \u201cMy son, I love you. Come to me, as far as you can, and I will meet you there.\u201d<\/p>\n

Once, my father and I were very close. We were more comrades and confidantes, survivors of the same war, than father and child. Then, many years ago, we had a falling out. We went our separate ways and our lives continued on without each other.<\/p>\n

I have grieved over the loss of him and have told him that my door is always open. He has never come. There are children in my house he has never seen. Grandbabies he has never held in the crook of his arm as they slumber peacefully by his heart. I have older children with no memory of him or memories which are swiftly fading. How could he have no interest in these precious ones?<\/p>\n

Then someone we both love told me, \u201cHe reads your blog. Just to know how you are. He reads it whenever you write.\u201d I wept tears of joy and relief. This is not the action of someone who doesn\u2019t care. It is the action of someone who is frightened and unsure.<\/p>\n

He has come to me as close as he can and I will meet him here.<\/p>\n

Dad, this is for you. Allow me to introduce you to your grandchildren.<\/p>\n

#1 is a cheerleader for her high school team. She is much grown up from the shy 5 year old you knew who was learning to play the guitar.
$\"\"$ <\/a><\/p>\n

#2, the NICU baby who struggled to breathe is now a champion gymnast.
$\"\"$ <\/a><\/p>\n

#3, who was a barely crawling baby when you saw him, now lives his life having amazing adventures. We usually see him like this. $\"\"$ <\/a><\/p>\n

But, like all super heroes, he has a secret identity, so here is mild-mannered #3. $\"\"$ <\/a><\/p>\n

Our sweet fairy girl, #4. $\"\"$ <\/a><\/p>\n

Our big moose, #5, who only sits still for so long. $\"\"$ <\/a><\/p>\n

And sweet #6. He smiles like this all the time. You would, too, if you were universally adored. $\"\"$ <\/a><\/p>\n

Merry Christmas, Dad, I hope you are happy and that life treats you well.<\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"