My Father


I walked too far and lost my way;
The rocks were sharp in the ocean’s spray.
And suddenly my father was there on the strand;
He called, “This way,” and we walked hand in hand.
I had practiced hard—I could hit, I could run—
But at my turn to bat, all my courage was gone.
Then I searched the crowd and found Father’s face;
He nodded, You can do it! And I made first base.
The hands were cool upon my fevered head;
I listened to the prayer my father said,
Making me well with his faith and love
And the power he holds from our Father above.
When I have a problem or a joy to share,
I look to my father, and he’s always there.

[illustration] Illustrated by Ted Nagata