A Letter to My Sons

A Letter to My Sons
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I remember the first time I put my hand in your hand. You seemed to smile out of a sense of familiarity. You knew me in a way that knocked me to my knees. Your tiny hand filled my palm with delicate fingers and fresh new strength. Your touch seemed to change my soul the very first minute you wrapped your fingers around mine.

Your touch called to me. It seemed to fill my soul with a promise that I never felt before. How I wanted to hold you safe and say, “Thanks be to God for the gift freely given to me.”

In that moment and in that time, your grasp held tight to my finger. It held firm and fast. I wanted to stay in that moment forever, but it could not be. We had to move on. You and I would be a formidable force against hemophilia. Together, nothing could hold us back.

You began to crawl and move around. You started to walk as you grabbed my hand. You used me for balance so that you could maneuver all that you could see. I stood beside you and just held on, giving thanks for all that you brought to my life. Even when all the bruising started to occur, I knew that you were a marvelous creation. And so, for a moment in time, you held my hand to support yourself.

One day you let go of my hand and started to walk on your own. While you staggered around the room, you practiced walking on your own until you could do it without my help. There were some times, though, that you wanted to hold my hand. You figured out how to maneuver, but you needed to know that I was still there to help. I gladly obliged and said, “I will be here to give you balance and strength, and guidance.”

Years passed, and you wanted to explore the world on your own. School came, and you wanted to be with friends. You needed to chart your destiny by yourself. I had to let you go out in the world, assured that you learned everything that you needed to know about your bleeding disorder. You had to care for yourself. You still reached for my hand, but in a different way.

You needed to find my hand, but I also knew that you had to let go and experience life without my constant support. All I could say was that “I will be here to give you balance and strength, and guidance.”

Time has gone by, and you continue to live your life. You’ve been amazing as you’ve grown in strength and wisdom. Your life seems to reflect all the love that I have for you. People’s hearts and lives have changed because of your kindness. You’ve truly made a difference.

And through it all, you’ve known that my hand is always there. Ready to help you stand tall when the world seemed to knock you down. Prepared to offer support to build you up and give you strength. Ready to shine a light in the middle of the darkness to provide you with a path.

I knew that there would be times that you would walk on the water of chaos and not succumb to the storm. I also knew that there would be times in your life where the waters would seem to overwhelm you. You would cry out for help, and I would run to your side. I would assure you that you would get through this.

The storm passed. You and I would make it through whatever obstacle would come our way. And I continue to stand by your side to give you balance, strength, and lighten your path.

***

Note: Hemophilia News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or another qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Hemophilia News Today or its parent company, BioNews Services, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to hemophilia.

Joe is the father of two sons with hemophilia. He and his wife, Cazandra, are active members in the bleeding disorders community and often facilitate workshops both locally and nationally. Joe is a pastor in the United Methodist Church and writes a blog about spirituality and faith. You may follow his blog at www.joekmac.com.
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Joe is the father of two sons with hemophilia. He and his wife, Cazandra, are active members in the bleeding disorders community and often facilitate workshops both locally and nationally. Joe is a pastor in the United Methodist Church and writes a blog about spirituality and faith. You may follow his blog at www.joekmac.com.
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2 comments

  1. Divyesh Bajpai says:

    Beautiful,it makes me feel better,makes me remind of my dad and how he motivates me to fight with this disorder.I will definately try my part to make this world a better place.Life is beautiful,count your blessings…

    Thanks for this amazing piece of writing.

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