The Last Piece of Bacon

I love a good hearty breakfast for dinner.  And in the winter when it’s cold and it gets dark so early, we have breakfast for dinner on a regular basis.  It’s an easy meal that the whole family likes and I always seem to have the ingredients on hand (which is great for busy days when 4:30 rolls around, and I don’t have a solid dinner plan).  Usually, we just have pancakes or waffles with scrambled eggs and maybe some fried potatoes, but sometimes I bake up a pan of bacon as a treat.

In a family of six; a one pound package of bacon doesn’t go very far.  Especially when you have growing boys who like to pile their plates high with crispy bacon.  I’m always careful to watch the bacon plate to make sure that Justin gets that last piece of bacon.  After all, if anyone deserves the coveted last piece of bacon it’s him.  The man who leaves us every morning, commutes to his job, and works hard each and everyday for us.  There wouldn’t be any bacon to put on the table if it weren’t for him.  I watch because I know it’s only a matter of time before one of my children’s hand reaches out to snatch and devour that last piece of bacon.  This particular night it happened to be all three of the older children who were vying for the last piece.

“Hey!” I said sharply as they all attempted to reach for it, “That’s your dad’s piece, you leave it alone.”  Justin quickly reached out and took the last piece of bacon.  He broke it into three small pieces and handed one to each of the children.

“That’s okay” he said, “I don’t mind sharing it.”

There have been many times in my life I have been proud to be that man’s wife, but at that moment I don’t believe I have ever been prouder.  Such a simple gesture, but to me it represented so much more.  It was a moment that encapsulated exactly the husband and father he is to us.  Selfless, even in the little things.  Happy to give what is “rightfully” his to those he loves.  Everyday he shows us what it means to love, what it is to be faithful, he is showing my sons and my daughters that strength (real strength) looks a lot like gentleness.  He is being God’s hands and feet.









There is always room on his lap for his children.  In the evenings he folds his long frame up into their small beds and makes up funny stories and songs for their listening pleasure.  His hands are used to help and protect, his words to build up; never to tear down.  My children never have to wonder what it means to have a heavenly Father who loves them, because their own father does such a good job reflecting His love to them.  He doesn’t expect praise or accolades, he wouldn’t want it, but I can’t help but tell the story I see day after faithful day.

If my friends, you have been tempted lately to despair at the stories that are so widely circulated in the news; if you have wondered “Are there any good men left?”.  I will tell you that there are so many good Godly men who are quietly, faithfully, and loving, serving their families. Men who gladly give up the last piece of bacon.

I think it’s time we told their stories. I think it’s time to sing their praises; so that others will follow in their footsteps.

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