I always
find myself sad around Father’s Day. Yes, I still battle periodic bouts of
anger at my own father. He gave up on life at a relatively early age and
finished his race poorly, leaving behind unfinished business and unspoken wisdom
that went to the grave with him. I strive to break this pattern.
Perhaps this
is part of the reason why come Father’s Day I recount my own failures as a
father, I replay missed opportunities and fight away the “if only” game in the
wee hours of the morning. Being a father is a tough gig; there’s no manual or
how-to book; and most of the examples in the parenting books or family-oriented
ministries are from “perfect” families with average problems. Or at least that’s
the way it seems.
But Hold On
But still my
boys love me. My bride listens to my pity-party rants then replies gently that I’m
not alone and that I’m loved. So maybe I’ve misunderstood fathering. Maybe it’s
less the doing and more the being—being a father, being there for my boys, and
being there for my wife. Even in all my failures in not “doing” things right I was
still being the best father I knew to be. My father hated his father; he never
even talked about him. So apparently my father didn’t have the best example. But
my dad was there, being the best father he knew to be. We didn’t play catch much and
we didn’t go camping, but he came home every night, kissed my mom and patted me
on the head.
Maybe that’s
the legacy my father gave me, while he finished his race poorly, he was still
being the best he knew as I was growing up.
So now, in the strength of the Lord, Whom my father didn’t know, I will
continue being the best father I can be; I will carry the legacy of my father
and take it to the next level. Then when the torch of life is handed off to
my boys, they then can go even higher.
