A Birthday Wish to My Son

Posted on Mar 14, 2017 In Blog
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To Jon-Michael Greaney,

For you Jon-Michael Greaney, I have said it before, I say it because it is true, I am proud of you son. Today on your 19th birthday I want you to hear those words and understand what they mean. They mean I believe in you. They mean I care about who you are and what you are doing and think about it, often. They mean I pray for you, spend time in prayer for you, your one-day wife and our grandkids. I see God working in you. I don’t share them freely without thought and consideration and I mean them. They are not words I speak with frivolity. One day I will not be here to speak these words over you. Let them settle in your heart.

I am 57 and never heard those words from my earthly father. I will never be gifted with “I am proud of you son” by him. If I am honest I still long for them on some days.

We have done together some of the hardest things I have ever experienced. We have scaled the tallest peaks and stood at the foot of glaciers we could not conquer. We have seen young boys give their lives to Jesus and others turn away from His offer and enter into dark places. We have seen His hands in gifts and blessings and can look over at each other and smile knowing just who it was that provided.

But all that being said, son, know that I can never answer the deepest question for you. Things, people, money will never be able to answer it.
The true answer is knowing that Jesus is proud of you. Knowing what He did for you. That the answer to your question will be when you get to the heavens gate and Jesus himself tells you, “job well done faithful servant.” That is answer to the question, the one you want to seek before any other.

Go do what mom and I know God has for you. He has shown us so many times. He speaks to us about you.

You hear from Him, you see His hands at work, you know it is Him. You know His voice. Listen and you will flourish in ways you cannot even image in your biggest dreams.

Happy Birthday Son. I am proud of you.

Dad