Ping Pong (by D.A. Cobb)

Bet you thought I was going to talk about table tennis. Well, you’re right, I am.

While his siblings were off to college our youngest son had Mom and Dad all to himself for four years. It was a fun time and a joy to watch him grow and mature into a young adult, become more aware of his wonderful sense of humor and to be able to welcome his numerous friends into our home.

We also travelled extensively supporting him at his many tennis tournaments.

It was also a time when he and I would retire to the basement, or I should say the rec room for a few hours. It had a separate area for my workshop, a bedroom with a full bath and shower, fireplace, carpeting, chair railing, dentil moulding, wall paper and a pool table which could be converted for table tennis. We spent hours, a son and his father, playing game after game of ping pong while listing to Neil Diamond[1] albums (Dad’s favorite).

It was, without a doubt, one the happiest times in my life. He was an absolute joy to be around. To this day I remain so very proud of him for his family values and I also watch with pride his commitment to his chosen career.

Read with me the words penned by Peter,

“He received honor and glory from God the Father when the voice came to him from the Majestic Glory saying, ’This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.”  2 Peter 1:17

I could shout from the rooftops at my pleasure of him being my son.

Yes, there will always be the special bond between this father and his son as I reflect on times gone by and relive those memories stored in my forever closet. They will remain there to remind me of our eternal connection both in this life and for the one yet to come.

If we are ever separated, for any reason, I need to remember the words of Jesus as he told the parable of the lost son,

So he got up and went to his father. “But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.”

Luke 15:12

[1] 1941-

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s