Father’s Day in Brazil was the second Sunday of August. I remembered why Living Stones never really celebrated Father's Day all the past years while in the middle of our lesson. The angry little face looked at me through eyes of pain: “I am not making this card!” He said, “My father doesn't even know me.”
I had made sure our activity was "all appropriate" as we made "superman" cards. I didn't write "dad" on it anywhere: they could make it for their grandfather, uncle, neighbor, pastor ... any superman in their life. Even with all that, it was still difficult.
This was the first Sunday in the history of Cajueiro Claro that we had that same amount of fathers as mothers in church. And before the preaching even started- when it was time to share and say thank you for the week- we already had smiles and tears, that incredible mix of emotions that only something really important can bring out: our fathers.
We celebrated the first Father's Day for Caid and pastor Flávio. We rejoice in Mercia's father coming, and victories over drinking in the lives of multiple fathers. And we cried for the fathers not preset- those passed on, and those who were invited but refused to come.
It is a battle, this celebration of Father's Day.