Many, many moons ago a Dixon and a Robinson met. She was young. He was even younger. He was training on a young adult course called YAPS and she was training to be a teacher. They were friends. Good friends. One night as they walked in snow-fall, leaving behind a trail of snow-angels, she realised that this friendship was a little bit more special. A few weeks later he realised the same. He asked her out and in the same breath intimated that they would marry. 6 weeks later they were engaged. One year after that, and twelve years ago today they were married. That was the end of “me” and the beginning of us. Sometimes I have wondered how we will push though. Sometimes we have argued and I have wondered how we will ever find resolution. Even this last week I have felt like that. But those vows were forever-vows. And in that wedding ceremony we asked for the help of God and the help of others as we started out that forever-journey. And so in His grace, by His spirit, and with the help of others we keep going. And as we work through every fall, every misunderstanding, every argument, we come back a little stronger, a little more united.
Sometimes you have driven me insane. Many times I have driven you even more insane. But mostly you have shown me grace.
You have always sought to say sorry first. You have loved me in my stubbornness and in my weakness and in my selfishness. You have praised me, affirmed me, and “bigged” me up (sometimes I’m afraid that the real me isn’t as good as the one you’ve described).
You have a lion-heart; courageous, bold and unswerving.
We all joke when you make reference about how you’re “happy to serve.” But truly: you do serve. You lay down your life for Jesus and for me.
You never keep still. Not for a moment. Even when you’re just sitting your leg is twitching. You have more energy than anyone I’ve ever known (except maybe for our kids who seem to have inherited your bouncy-gene).
You have this passion. And this commitment. And it’s unrelenting. I hear you say it often: that you want to sow into others what God’s sown into you. You know that is the call on your life. I see you regularly giving out what you’ve only just received. I don’t know anyone more generous than you.
You call out potential. In me. In the kids. In those you love, and those you work with. You look for the good, and overlook the bad.
When you came to faith “Amazing Grace” was playing in the background. I think it’s the soundtrack to your life. You know that you were once lost and now you’re found. And you never forget it. You never assume or forget that grace. You live everyday thankful for what He has done in and through you.
You’re not perfect. But you know that because I tell you (more than I should).
I remember the day, just after we were married, when you came home from work and told me what you thought we should call our son. Nine years ago Josiah Samuel, our first Robinson-bundle arrived and you radiated joy.
You are an incredible father. Day-after-day-afer-day you come home from work and put aside the thoughts in your mind and you pick up those chablings and tickle them, rugby tackle them, laugh with them, listen to them and play with them. They know they are loved. They know they are safe. They know their daddy in heaven loves them. You challenge them, with the steadfast love of a father. You call them to something more, something better, something more like the One who made them.
And so on this anniversary, and on this father’s day I am doubly thankful for all that you are and all that you give. I am blessed.