This weekend, we celebrate an annual marker: Father’s Day. If you’re a dad, whether through your own procreation or adoption, congratulations.
You may have heard it said that "Any man can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a dad." It’s true.
This weekend, we celebrate an annual marker: Father’s Day. If you’re a dad, whether through your own procreation or adoption, congratulations. If you love a dad or have a dad who loves you, you’re blessed. If you wish you had a dad to love or a dad to love you back but don’t have either, my heart-felt sympathy. This is likely an indescribable hurt. I’m sorry.
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Just so I’m not accused of false advertising, here are those three small words that you and I can be reminded of on a day we’re supposed to be the ones who are celebrated. Maybe we could call this a Father’s Day gift you and I can give to our family. Ready?
Tell Them, "I Love You"
One of the most iconic moments on the silver screen was when, in "Fiddler on the Roof," at the news that their daughter was getting married, Tevye asked Golde if she loves him. Clearly, because they haven’t spent much time talking about this, her first words in response to his question, "Do-you-love-me" question were, "You’re a fool."
His laughable—maybe predictable—comeback was, "I know."
Then her understandable wifey response became a litany of things she does for him . . . washing his clothes, cooking his meals, cleaning his house, bearing his children . . . and my favorite, milking the cow . . . and more.
Clearly unsatisfied, Tevye asked again, "Then you love me?"
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Although not a candidate for the perfect response to a doe-eyed, pleading husband, she finally admitted: "I suppose I do."
And, of course, these three wonderful words—I love you—aren’t only for mates to say (admit) to each other, but they’re also for dads to verbalize to their children.
What I’m about to tell you happened over 50 years ago, but I clearly remember the experience. The feeling. The disappointment. Maybe you have a similar story?
I didn’t whisper a word of the letdown to my late wife, who had just delivered a large baby. In fishing parlance, a keeper. Such a good-size newborn she was that the nurses chose her for the here’s-how-to-bathe-your-child demonstration in front of all the new mommies. Even though I was not there to see this, when I heard about it, I was proud.
This was our first offspring and deep down, I had hoped for a boy—a son who would help me with building projects; a son I could tussle with on the living-room floor; a son who, by some miraculous quirk of genetic selection, would be the athlete I never was. But it wasn’t to be. (Before the due date, I had bought a football to throw with my child, but it spent many fallow years on the top shelf of our closet.)
A few days after her birth, we brought our little girl home from the hospital. And there was no turning back. Try as we might to return to full nights of sleep and quiet evenings alone, they were gone forever.
Soon after Missy came home to live with us, I forgot the nonsense about the boy. This little person was capturing my heart. I couldn’t wait to get home from work each day just to see her.
Sitting on my favorite chair, late one afternoon, while carefully holding our tightly-swaddled, sleeping baby girl, I studied her tiny features—her little turned-up nose, perfect eyelashes, and rosebud-shaped mouth.
We talked.
"Do you know who you are, little girl?" I asked. "You’re Missy, and I’m your daddy. Do you know how glad I am that you came to live at our house? Do you know how much I love you?"
Occasionally her eyes would open, seeming to focus.
As though it were yesterday, I can remember the breath-capturing feeling in my soul. "This little girl is my responsibility," I whispered. "I’m her daddy, the only one she’ll ever have. And I have the privilege of loving her."
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Looking at her face again, something deep inside me stirred. The feeling was overwhelming, but not a frustrated or fearful kind of overwhelming. I felt resolved. Committed. Ready to tackle the obstacles that would surely lie ahead.
I remember thinking at that moment, "I’ll be your daddy, little girl. You can count on me. I can do this. I know I can."
Then I breathed a prayer because deep inside I knew that I had no idea what I was talking about.
God, please help me.
My lifetime assignment of father-love had begun. And, in answer to my prayer, the Lord graciously came alongside. He helped me. Undeserving as I am, He gave me wisdom. Today, amazingly, this baby girl is a grandmother with two grands to adore.
Incredibly, the love goes on.
Joyfully.
This Father’s Day, cover your family with love. Start with just three words. Say, "I love you."
Oh, and Happy Father’s Day to you.
