See Dad When he was a Kid.
advertisement
There’s something magical about seeing old photographs of Dad when he was just a kid. His eyes, bright and full of wonder, hold that same unmistakable spark I still see today—just softened by the years and wisdom that time brings. Looking at those childhood moments feels like stepping into a time machine, one that carries me back to the days before the world grew complicated, before responsibilities and age left their quiet marks upon his gentle face. In those faded pictures, Dad’s smile seems so free, so untouched by worry. He’s often barefoot in the grass, maybe chasing after a ball or laughing with friends, his hair a little messy from play. The innocence in his grin speaks of simple joys—the kind that come from running under the open sky, fishing in muddy creeks, or sharing homemade snacks with cousins under the shade of a big old tree. Life was slower then, and so much of who he became was already being written in those small, ordinary moments of boyhood wonder. As I study those photos, I can almost hear the echo of his laughter. I imagine him calling out to his siblings, daring them to race him to the river, or proudly showing off something he built with his own two hands. Even then, that quiet strength was there—the same resilience that would one day guide our family through life’s storms. The kindness in his eyes, the sense of curiosity, and that deep-rooted love for family all began in those early days of childhood. It’s amazing to think how that little boy grew into the man who became my hero. The one who taught me right from wrong, who worked tirelessly so that I could have a better life, who never gave up no matter how hard the journey became. When I see those photos, I realize that his spirit hasn’t really changed—it’s only matured, softened, and deepened. The same playful heart that once ran through open fields still beats inside him, even as his steps have slowed and his hands have grown gentler with age. This Sunday, as I look at those childhood pictures of Dad, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. It’s a reminder that every stage of his life—every laughter, every hardship, every triumph—shaped him into the beautiful soul he is today. It reminds me that behind every wise, loving father is a little boy who once dreamed, played, and learned how to love. So today, I celebrate that boy and the man he became. I celebrate the journey that began long ago in a small, simple world full of sunlight and hope. Seeing Dad as a child helps me see him not just as my father, but as a human being who once held his own dreams in tiny hands, and somehow managed to turn them into a legacy of love.
advertisement