Time was. That time no longer is.
“You can do better. You know you can.” This had been his father’s frequent refrain.
Yeah, probably, he thought. But there’ll be time for that. I’ll get it all together, I will.
Then, one day, he closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, his father was gone.
But yeah, the days keep coming. And no one tells him anymore that he can do better.
Because no one else believes it.
“He who gathers in summer is a wise son;
He who sleeps in harvest is a son who causes shame.”
He just has to believe in himself that he can do better .
Our Father still says it in many ways, but otherwise, every now and then, we indeed do better, and it’s warmer on the inside for that initial encouragement recalled as if it were this very morning that we heard honest love.