Son, If ever my words should outlive my voice, let this be among the ones that find you. I have walked with God longer than I have had answers, longer than I have had strength. Ours has not been a journey of certainty but of endurance—of a slow, steady knowing that deepens with time. I did not always understand Him. In truth, I still do not. But I have come to trust Him, and that has made all the difference. He has been my silence in noise, my stillness in storms, my shelter when even my name felt too heavy to carry. There were seasons when I mistook His quiet for absence. I now know better. God does not leave, Son—He lingers. He waits, not because He is far, but because He is patient. He has walked beside me through the long ache of waiting, through prayers that dissolved into groans, through nights where I did not believe I could wake and still be whole. But I always did. And when I looked back, I saw His fingerprints on everything. He has let me fail—oh, how many times. But never to shame me. Always to teach me that I am held by something greater than my own ability to hold it together. And in those broken places—where pride gave way to humility—I met Him most honestly. I want you to know this: the God I know is not a taskmaster. He is not tallying your stumbles. He is not hiding behind rituals or reputation. He is near. He is present in the dust and sweat of ordinary days. I have heard Him in laughter around the table, felt Him in the quiet dignity of daily bread, and seen Him in the mercy of second chances. I will not hand you a blueprint, Son. Faith is not built by inheritance but by encounter. Still, I hope my life has been a map of sorts—a quiet trail of worn footsteps that leads you not to a system, but to Someone. When the day comes—and it will—when you feel the weight of being a man, when your questions outnumber your answers, and your strength is no longer enough… call on Him. Not as a stranger. But as the God your father once leaned on, and never let go. - @thesoulful_writer