Jason C. Stanley

ponderings of a dad walking humbly & seeking justice

Tag: dad (page 1 of 2)

When There Are No Words

I started writing this while sitting in a hospital waiting area. Thankfully, there was a Starbucks in the building, so a very tall coffee sat next to me.

My one-year-old nephew went into the ER this past weekend. Once he was in a room, and I was able to see him, I was slightly taken aback. He was hooked up to so many things. And meds were being pumped into his little body. All to help him be more comfortable as they ran various tests.

Photo by Marcelo Leal on Unsplash

It was hard looking at my little Buddy lying in a huge hospital bed. I couldn’t help but find myself thinking about my dad. Some eighteen years ago he was in and out of the hospital due to prostate cancer.

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Book Review: Sleepless Nights and Kisses for Breakfast

Sleepless Nights and Kisses for Breakfast: Reflections on Fatherhood, Matteo Bussola, Penguin Group TarcherPerigee, 2017.

Fatherhood, I have learned in the past two years, is a true gift. Sure, there are moments when the whining and the fussing gets a little weary, but hey, we all whine and fuss, right? All of those moments are pushed to the shadows when your little girl climbs in your lap to give you a kiss. Or when she makes a joke and then laughs at herself.

Being a dad has been the best calling on my life.

And it’s one of those callings that you only realize how powerful it is until it happens. I remember church members telling me after it was announced that we were expecting, that my life would never be the same.

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A Letter to my Dad

dadMy father, Bruce C. Stanley, passed away on Sunday, April 15, 2001 – Easter Sunday. This time of year always proves to be hard at different moments. The joy is always accompanied by the sorrow. The bustle of family and friends visiting is now the companion of an emptiness of missing him. Continue reading

Go to Sleep, Baby Girl

Go to sleep, baby girl, go to sleep.

Close your eyes, your pretty eyes, and go to sleep.

So you can dream of being the captain of a great, big, ship, exploring the wonders of the world.

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Your Little Hands

when i hold your little hands in mine

i can’t help but wonder what your hands will hold

will your hands give food to the hungry?

will they raise up in protest of discrimination and racism?

will they hold a book into the wee hours of the morning?

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