The Scars and Grit

One day I awoke, with my father on my mind.

Years had passed, but his memory still shined.

He was a preacher, strong and stern. Raised me with fire, made me learn.

But some of that fire left me burned

He held the Word in one hand, the belt in the other.

Said it was love, but it felt like thunder.

I was the one he disciplined most.

A child confused, haunted by ghosts,

Of anger dressed up in holy clothes

But time has a way of softening stone

He came to me when he was old and alone.

Said, “I’m sorry for the pain I gave,

I was angry, and I misbehaved”

Then he looked at me with tearful eyes.

Said, “I’m proud of the man you’ve become in this life”

And I said, “You gave me grit, you gave me fight.

You don’t owe me an apology tonight”

The scars still ache, but they taught me to stand

And I’m grateful for the touch of your hand

Cedar Island tales and quiet grace

I found peace in the stories he’d trace

I braced for bad news, but he gave me gold

A father’s truth, finally told

And it healed the boy he used to scold

Discipline’s a line we walk with care.

It can build or break, depending where It comes from—love or rage inside

I’ve lived both, and I won’t hide.

That the sting fades, but the anger stays.

Unless we learn to change our ways

Time has a way of softening stone.

He came to me when he was old and alone.

Said, “I’m sorry for the pain I gave.

I was angry, and I misbehaved”

Then he looked at me with tearful eyes

Said, “I’m proud of the man you’ve become in this life”

And I said, “You gave me grit, you gave me fight

You don’t owe me an apology tonight”

The scars still ache, but they taught me to stand

And I’m grateful for the touch of your hand

So if you raise a child, raise them with grace

Let love be the look upon your face

Teach with calm, not with wrath

So they’ll walk a gentler path

And maybe one day, they’ll look back and say

“My father gave me strength that never fades away”