She knew he was coming for her.

Watching over FaceTime, I could see the slowed steps of my first grandchild as she peered back over her shoulder watching her dad. She’d been running from him and each time he’d caught her—snatching her up and enveloping her in giggles and kisses. She knew that he was ready to spring into action and grab her again. Although she’d run the fastest her chubby, inexperienced legs would take her, diaper sagging beneath her zipped in body suit, the anticipation of his approach had caused her to slow and carefully glance back. When her sneaking suspicion proved true, she let out a shriek of glee as he lifted her away.

Pretending she was in control was the funny part but the sweet spot was realizing how much she delighted in his pursuit of her. There was nothing better than to know her big, protective dad was coming to get her.

Watching the hi jinx unfold on Father’s Day, I began thinking about how I don’t like to be late. 

We celebrated my own father a day early this year as my husband and father of my children would need Sunday to prepare to leave town to care for his mom. 

Then it hit me that I had not written about Father’s Day—I missed the chance. Reflecting on the day, however, made me reconsider. The response is still valid even though I didn’t get ahead of it. I hadn’t been proactive. 

But then, could I ever, get ahead of it? 

Obligatory Father’s Day acknowledgements had come plenty of times and the heartfelt, fleeting sentiments have brought sappy smiles and a few hours of gratitude for lifetimes of sacrifice. 

But these are always an inevitably delayed responses to the leaning in of the dad who initiated the relationship.

There is no chance for it to be a proactive response for those of us receiving this kind of love.

Not until I became a mom and watched my own husband sacrifice for his children did I begin to grasp fully what was being done for me, hour after hour, day after day, year after year. The love of a father for a child played out in the sacrifice of time, of work, of literal sweat and blood. 

It is the reach of love before the loved even knows what it means. 

The young child has no comprehension of the life giver, the love extended until life is lived and love received. It can only become a response after years of living, suffering, beginning to comprehend the depths of what has happened.

It can only always be a delayed response. The slow dawning of love’s deep begins to buoy us up only after we begin to understand what has been relentlessly given. 

We love because He first loved us. (See 1 John 4:19)

It is the underlying truth for Father’s Day, for every day.

Without His first leaning in, His first reaching out for us, there would be nothing.

We’d live in the void—apart from joy, affection, protection, rescue.

We would be living without any hope, without any salvation from ourselves. 

We’d not live at all.

Thank God this is not true. Thank God He pursued.

Our Father in heaven set his affection on his children before they were even in existence. He has gone after his own from before the moment they could comprehend. Sometimes we have run full speed away. Then, sometimes, aware of his affectionate approach, we find ourselves glancing back and slowing our pace to be sure it is true. 

He has modeled for us all the undeserved pursuit and offer of love before we could comprehend what it meant. 

What it meant was that He gave away his own life in sacrifice for ours. 

Overwhelmed by gratitude, I am dumbfounded to have an earthly father like this. He took part in my creation and when I was still unknown, he offered unconditional love. He leaned in to me, for me. 

And by God’s grace, I also have a husband like this who loves his own children in this way. He goes after them with love and the reach of protection and covering even if they are turning away.

Though my gratitude can only come as a delayed response to this delightful pursuit, I offer it nonetheless.