Being a dad is a paradox.
You begin by standing outside a delivery room door—helpless, hopeful, praying, pacing. It’s the start of a lifetime of waiting outside doors you wish you could open, fix, or walk through on their behalf. But that first moment sets the tone. You’re not in charge, and yet everything depends on you.
There will be many birthday parties. Messy cakes, tiny chairs, superheroes, scavenger hunts. Your job is not to throw the perfect party—it’s to show up, to sing loudly, to wear the silly hat. To be present. Over time, the party themes change, but the role stays the same: Be the one who claps, who cheers, who picks up the wrapping paper and says, “I’m proud of you.”
Teaching comes naturally—until it you have no clue. You explain how to tie a shoe, throw a football, drive a car. You coach math facts and heart matters. You stumble through “the talks,” realizing the lessons that matter most are modeled, not taught. And you hope they are watching when you apologize and when you try again.
As a dad, you are supposed to know everything. And there are times you do—at least it seems that way to your kids, but only when they’re small. You fix broken toys, stop nightmares, and answer big questions. But time passes. The questions change. The stakes get higher. Suddenly you realize you know nothing. Or at least not enough.
You want to fix everything—but you can’t. You want to mend the scraped knee, the broken heart, the friendships that go sideways, the setbacks that sting. But eventually, you realize your power is limited. Love often comes with no solution. Sometimes being a dad means sitting quietly beside your child in the mess, reassuring them they are not alone.
You’re called to be in control. Steady. Wise. Safe. Yet you’re also called to surrender—to let go of the handlebars, the curfews, the outcomes. To trust the seeds you have planted will grow, even when they are out of your sight. Even when they fail, or drift, or break your heart a little.
You worry about all of them—except one. That one who seems strong, steady, low-maintenance. You tell yourself they’re fine… until one day they’re not. And you’re reminded no child, no matter how easy, is exempt from needing their dad’s attention, affection, and prayers.
Being a dad is the greatest mystery you’ll ever try to solve. The deepest heartache you’ll ever bear. The wildest joy you will ever know.
Even though it sometimes feels next to impossible, keep showing up.
We walk beside men trying to be good fathers in hard circumstances. Divorce, custody, distance, and disappointment do not diminish a dad’s love—but they can make it harder to live out. This Father’s Day, we honor the men doing their best to show up, stay steady, and love well, even when the road is uncertain.
If you’re navigating life as a father in the middle of family change, we’re here to help. Reach out for a confidential consultation—and take your next step forward.
