Thoughts on Twenty Father’s Days

Having been a dad for 20 years now, I finally feel qualified to write on the subject. First, happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there. You are blessed, whether it’s your first one or your 50^th. My hat’s off to you, and I’m humbled and honored to be among those granted the privilege of having children.

I know so many great dads, men who make it look easy being the provider and protector, the coach, the “rock” of their families, the patient listeners, the stoics who toil away without complaint, the men who have quite literally given their lives to support their families. I’m grateful to the unsung, yet so unquestionably worthy men, who sacrificed so their children could have better lives, gain better opportunities and live in better neighborhoods than where their fathers grew up. A lot of guys don’t get much credit for that. Most don’t want it. They see it as just doing their job. I see that as all the more reason to celebrate fatherhood, at least for one day.

And, in case you’re wondering, here’s why most of us dads don’t care about the “recognition,” or complain about not getting the respect we deserve.

It’s because … (shh, don’t tell anyone) … we actually love it. It’s true. I love being a dad! As a young man, I always knew I wanted a family. When I got married, my wife and I decided not to have kids right away. I don’t regret that special time we had as a couple, but honestly if I could do it over, I would’ve had kids sooner. Even though I wanted children, and we spent time praying (and practicing a lot) to have kids, when my daughter was born, I was completely unprepared for the joy that she immediately brought into my life.

I thought that my wife and I were happy, and we were. And granted, she was such a beautiful, bright and easy-going baby. Everyone who met her was instantly impressed with her smile, her sunny disposition and her wonderful, inquisitive nature. But I had no idea how much becoming a little family would multiply our joy. I didn’t know that being a father would be such an incredible blessing, and would change my entire life for the better. And I had no idea it would be so much fun!

I learned the unimaginable joy of singing her to sleep, of hearing her coo and giggle, and the wonder of playing peekaboo and cuddling. As she grew, the fun turned into building her dollhouses, swings and playsets, making forts together, having her hit a baseball, and teaching her to ride a bike.

You cannot fathom the simple pleasure of throwing your little girl up in the air, seeing her eyes come alive, watching somehow in slow motion for one weightless nano-second, and as she falls you catch her, hair falling around her face, and she begs you to “Do it again, Daddy!” I would not trade that feeling for anything in the world.

Then my son was born, and I got to do it all over again, the same… but different. I thank God for my kids every day. As they’ve grown up, I’ve had a front-row seat, watching them become the awesome young people that they are today. It has been a tremendous, life affirming experience that I’ve thoroughly enjoyed.

Has it always been rosy? Of course not. My son has had health struggles since infancy. Sometimes it seemed like we were in the ER every other month, dealing with one mystery illness or another. One day he broke his arm in two places and I rode in an ambulance to one hospital, only to find out they couldn’t help him, and took another ambulance ride to a different hospital. The entire time he was in agony. Every-single-bump-in-the-road. For hours. They tried everything but could not figure out a way to numb his pain. I kept telling him everything would be ok. And it was, eventually. I don’t know who was more traumatized by that day: him or me.

Today, by the grace of God, he’s 6’4” and healthy, despite the occasional crippling migraine that comes out of nowhere. I’m proud of the young man he has become, and I’m grateful that even though he’s bigger than I am, he still gives me hugs. J

My kids aren’t perfect. How could they be? They didn’t have perfect parents!

I’ve told people – and this may shock some of you – our kids are probably going to need therapy because of the things we did (and didn’t do) as parents.

I’m only half joking.

I mean, yeah you can laugh about it, but I’m sorry: you’ve damaged your children. I sure have. Below are some examples that perhaps my fellow dads can relate to.

Have you ever yelled at your kids, not because they were doing anything especially terrible, but just because you were having a bad day? I have.

Have you ever made your son go to school when he was sick, because you thought he was faking it, but then it turned out he really was sick? I have.

Did you ever tell your daughter to play through the pain when she hurt her wrist? And she did, and the next day you took her to get her arm x-rayed, and it was fractured? Guilty.

Did you ever call your child a name, like “you little brat,” or call them lazy, or snotty, or spoiled? Yeah, I have.

Did you ever miss a performance or a school play, or not help them with their homework, because you were “too busy” or because you knew your wife would do it? Multiple times.

Have you ever passed up a “teachable moment” because you were just too tired to explain or too afraid to have “that conversation” when the opportunity presented itself? Same here.

Have you ever gotten home late and secretly hoped the kids were asleep, so you wouldn’t have to read that frickin’ little book one more frickin’ time ‘cause you’re pretty sure you’ll go insane? I have.

Have you ever embarrassed your kids in front of their friends? Did you sort of enjoy it? Yeah, me too.

Has your child ever asked why you weren’t there when _____, or how could you make them _____, or why you lied to them, or why you just don’t care, or don’t understand, or why you’re so mean, or why we can’t afford to _____? I’ve been there, too.

Has your child ever disappointed you? Do they know “that look” you give them when they do? Have you ever seen their face fall, head bowed low, when you didn’t respond as they’d hoped you would? I have. It’s heartbreaking.

The Bible says “Fathers, do not provoke your children, lest they become discouraged.” Have your children ever become discouraged trying to please you? Mine sure have.

I truly believe, the question is not IF you will mess up your kids. The question is only HOW you will mess them up.

And let’s face it… parenting is impossibly difficult.

You have to encourage them. Can you encourage them so much they get a false sense of self, or worse, become arrogant?

You have to teach them. Can you do that without lecturing? Are you teaching them the right things? Are you preventing them from discovering things on their own?

You have to discipline them. Can you be too tough on them? Not tough enough?

You have to be honest with them. Do you pretend there’s a Santa until they stop trusting you? Can you be too honest, too soon?

You have to protect them. Can you keep them in a bubble? Do you need to let them cross the river on the slippery rocks and find out what happens if they fall in?

You have to help them push past their fears. Can you end up pushing too hard? Will they end up getting hurt because they’re trying to prove to you they’re brave?

You have to model good behavior. Does that turn into an act you’re putting on when they’re around? Will they start to believe Dad never gets angry, never gets frustrated, never fights with Mom, is always calm, always cheerful, always patient? Are you setting an impossible standard?

Even if (you think) you’ve figured it out with one child, you’ll discover those tactics don’t work with the next kid. It’s like they’re unique human beings or something!

Now, before you start wallowing in self-pity or guilty feelings, I’m here to tell you: don’t.

Don’t blame yourself. Don’t believe the lie that it’s all up to you. Don’t believe your kids have no chance at a “normal” healthy life, because you’ve permanently damaged them.

I say that if your kid is in therapy because of something you did, then great! At least they know they need therapy and they’re getting help.

Far worse off is the young adult who thinks they had the perfect parents and perfect childhood and so they don’t need any help to go make their way in the world.

That was me.

I knew my parents weren’t perfect, but I still believed that I’d survived my childhood relatively unscathed, and that I was smart enough, talented enough, educated enough and tough enough to bend life to my will. Click here to read how that turned out.

But I digress.

The point is: give up on the idea you can be the perfect parent. You can’t.

What you CAN do is love your kids.

You can’t love them perfectly. But the #1 thing your kids need to know, by your words and by your actions, is that you love them, unconditionally. That’s how God love us. And that’s how we need to love our children. The “1 Corinthians 13” kind of love. Patient. Kind. Humble. Enduring. Forgiving. Hopeful. Never ending.

My dad wasn’t the best father. He didn’t always know how to show it, but I always knew he loved me. He didn’t teach me a lot of things. But he showed me how to be generous. He showed me how to work hard and sacrifice for your family. He taught me that people matter more than money. He taught me that life isn’t fair, and that the world didn’t owe me anything. He told me not to sweat the small stuff.

So dads, please give yourself a break. Give your kids a break. Love and respect are a two-way street. Keep your side of the street clean. Yes, you’re going to disappoint each other. It’s okay, just keep on loving. And remember, you’re the adult in the relationship. Be the “bigger” person. Be the wiser person. Take the longer view. They don’t know what you know, yet. Don’t be surprised when they don’t take your advice. Did you listen to your parents at that age?

And no matter their age, enjoy your children TODAY. I once asked a very wise dad of five children, “Which age is the best?” He told me, “They’re all the best. And they’re all the worst.” So true.

When you have toddlers, LOVE that they are toddlers.

When they’re needy little beggars, LOVE that they need you.

When you have middle-schoolers, love those awkward years!

When you have teenagers, LOVE your teens! (Few others will.)

When they don’t seem to need you anymore, LOVE their newfound independence!

When you have young adults, LOVE that they will not be the people you expected. Trust that God has a plan for them, and they have to walk their own path, not yours.

Enjoy the journey.

Enjoy the relationships.

Enjoy the day off.