It's Father's Day. I'm in church. All of the churches are making a big deal out of Father's Day.
I'm watching the babies and young children. I love babies. All babies. My great-grandchildren, and anyone else's babies. So I'm enjoying the babies. And noting the mothers taking care of the babies and young children. And suddenly realizing: where are all the fathers? If I had babies, would I even let their mother have them on Father's Day?
OK, yeah, there are some fathers. The baby and mother who started this train of thought are eventually joined by the father. I see one father hugging/holding his daughter, and the sweetness of it is a *small* measure of joy to my damaged soul. But these are somewhat anomalous, and I'm still wondering: where are all the fathers?
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