I am a father,
Yet, my children are my teachers.
They show me life in ways school never could,
In their laughter, their innocence, their small demands.
My children eat every day,
But who makes sure of that?
I, their father.
Do they know it?
No, they are too young to understand.
They live under this roof,
But do they know what it takes to keep it standing?
No, they are too small to grasp the weight of it,
Yet, I carry that burden with love.
Every day, they ask for something—
Yoghurt, sausage, juice, meat.
And I give it without hesitation,
Because their happiness is my joy.
Though I am growing older,
They still reach for me with outstretched arms,
"Lift me, Baba!" they say,
And I do, smiling like the child I once was.
What wouldn’t I do for my children?
Honestly, nothing.
I bathe them,
Wash their clothes,
And tend to their every need,
Because that's what fathers do.
But then I think of God—our Father.
If I, an imperfect man, can care this much,
How much more can He,
The one who created us all?
As an earthly father, I give all I can,
But God gives without limit.
Yet, we are too small, too unaware,
To see just how deeply He cares.
The day we will know God as Father,
Not as judge or distant figure,
We will know true peace,
For He listens, He provides,
Even when we don't realize it.
Yet, my children are my teachers.
They show me life in ways school never could,
In their laughter, their innocence, their small demands.
My children eat every day,
But who makes sure of that?
I, their father.
Do they know it?
No, they are too young to understand.
They live under this roof,
But do they know what it takes to keep it standing?
No, they are too small to grasp the weight of it,
Yet, I carry that burden with love.
Every day, they ask for something—
Yoghurt, sausage, juice, meat.
And I give it without hesitation,
Because their happiness is my joy.
Though I am growing older,
They still reach for me with outstretched arms,
"Lift me, Baba!" they say,
And I do, smiling like the child I once was.
What wouldn’t I do for my children?
Honestly, nothing.
I bathe them,
Wash their clothes,
And tend to their every need,
Because that's what fathers do.
But then I think of God—our Father.
If I, an imperfect man, can care this much,
How much more can He,
The one who created us all?
As an earthly father, I give all I can,
But God gives without limit.
Yet, we are too small, too unaware,
To see just how deeply He cares.
The day we will know God as Father,
Not as judge or distant figure,
We will know true peace,
For He listens, He provides,
Even when we don't realize it.
