my father tells me he has failed
to be the dad he ought to be.
I do not understand, I see
a man who lives a life unveiled.
a man who sees mistakes ingrained,
like words which cannot be unsaid;
but I see laurels on his head:
he turns his wrongs to lessons gained.
a man who taught me love for words,
who showed me how to relish life,
who taught me when I deal with strife
to dwell on how God cares for birds.
I think of all the things I've learned.
he points out all the ways he's failed;
he tends to see how sin's prevailed,
but I see joy that he's unturned.
I slowly see Your gift of grace
become his well of life divine;
You make Your beams of joy to shine
around his tender, weary face.
help us to see, when weakness stings,
You bring forth strength and might:
from guilt to joy and dark to light,
we feel Your power within us sing.
a poem written several years ago
by my sister Lydia, about my dad,
Curtis L. Daugaard (1952-2021)
&
companion to
which he wrote
titled from
"Praise, My Soul, The King of Heaven"