A call to all fathers

A few months ago I met a new friend —after speaking at a church—who approached me and asked if I would be interested in sharing my message with a big group of business men. At first I thought, “what would I have to offer a bunch of men?...” and then he proceeded to tell me about a statistic he keeps finding every where he looks. When asked what is most important to them...he finds most business men instantly say, “my family” but after more conversation he learns that most of these same men only spend about 1% of their time with their families. 

The past few days I have been reminded why that statistic is something I am passionate about changing. Fathers...we need YOU. This video and post are about a little car ride and a note in the night that helped me remember a message I can’t hold back any more. 

After a car ride with six thirteen year old girls I spent the next two days struggling with some hard truths. There are a lot of kids with the same story.

This message is to all Fathers. You are valuable and your kids need you.

They  need your strengths and your gifts. They need you to wrestle them and throw the ball to them. They need your time and your love.

They  need you to show them what a real man looks like. If we want our daughters to find a man that treats them right and honors their promises, then we have to show them what that kind of a man looks like.

Love their mothers. Be kind to the woman in their life.

Respect and honor your family. Not by working your life away or running from your problems, but by showing up every day.

With love and honor and virtue. Live your truths. Be the kind of man you want your daughter to want to marry someday.

Yesterday would have been Emmett's 38th birthday. If he were here I know there are many things he would say to all the fathers in his life. And I am sure as he watched his five children celebrate, for the 7th time, without him . . . Emmett wants all Father's to remember this:

We only get one chance to raise them. Don't waste your days making extra dollars or bigger muscles, use your days making extra memories and more smiles. 

Children deserve a father who teaches them how to use grace, we don't need to be perfect, just humble. Children deserve a father who is there for them. Chose choices that keep you safe and go home every night. Children deserve to see their parents as often as possible. Children deserve peace. Do all that you can to give them stability and consistency. 

Be their friend, but also their father. Teach them to love others over themselves. Show them how to find their purpose, tell them every day that being their dad is one of yours. 

Believe in your kids. Encourage them, tell them they are good. Use words to lift them up, but always use actions to help them believe your words. Don't spend your days wishing they were different, I promise you will wish this time back someday. 

Live for them now, so you don't regret the life you didn't get to give them. Don't let the darkness make you loose sight of what is important, no amount of money, or flattery, or praise from the world will make up for the broken hearts who needed you. 

Never put another person, including yourself, above your family. They deserve the best parts of you. Your family will always remember the person you are today, but the man you show up to be tomorrow, they will never forget. Don't die with regrets . . . that is hell. And to live with purpose, that is how you find heaven. 

God gave you this gift of fatherhood, make it count. Take control of what really is important to you, and be that man today. We have enough fatherless children, go home and tell them you love them. 

Now is your time, please, please don't wait. Before it is too late. Make it right. No matter how far you have gone away, turn back and start again. 

No regrets. Love them unconditionally, that is the greatest gift they need right now, not money. The most important gift you can give your children today . . . is YOU. 

Be the man you always wanted to be. I promise you won't regret it. 


What do you want your children's story to be? Today they are writing it. No matter where you have been, I urge you to figure out your crap and go show up as the one they deserve. I know it is possible!!! Fear will tell you it doesn't matter. But it does. Today we act for ourselves, instead of living out of fear. Fear is what takes a father away. Fear they need to make more money to be valuable. Fear they need to be perfect before they can go home and be the father their kids deserve. Fear they aren't enough, stops them from being anything.

To the many children who have felt abandoned, forgotten, or alone. This was not your fault. You are still lovable, and worthy of an amazing life. Forgive the one who didn't give you all you deserved and believe in the future. You didn't choose this story, and you can decide how it ends. Be everything for your children, and the people in your life, that they weren't for you. Turn it into good. You have the power to change their story.

The parts of our stories we can't control, are only a fraction of the ones we are meant to live. You can make a difference, in your story, and in the story of all the people you were born to love.

To the dad who walked away

Ashlee,

When I heard about your “I will stand” series on your blog, my heart longed to tell many of the stories that have helped me learn to stand in my life. But tonight I wanted to share a letter I wrote this year to one of the main people who has helped me find my reason to stand.

My father.

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Dear Dad,

It is me, your little girl. Tomorrow is Father’s Day—again. Another year I will celebrate without you.

For a long time I didn’t understand why you had to leave. I tried to reassure myself that it was not because you wanted to go, but I also knew if that was true . . . you would have come back to me.

So I pretended I hated you. It was easy most days—I got used to you being gone—and I resented you for not being so many of the things I longed for you to be. Life was easy when I hated you, because then I didn’t feel so alone.

The hardest part was when I missed you.

When you are a little girl, everything is about super heroes and princesses being saved. I always dreamed you would come and rescue me from the rollercoaster of chaos and fear of hating and missing you all at the same time.

Because the truth of it was . . . I never hated you. I missed you. I missed you so bad my heart hurt. I missed your laugh, and your smile. I missed your stories and our oatmeal cookies. I missed knowing I was safe when you were close by.  I missed knowing that you would protect me and take care of me. I missed having you by my side.

I missed my dad, not the one who walked away . . . the man I wished you were—the dad you should have been.  

So I waited for you. In my eyes, you were the magic ticket to my happy life again. Every memory I created without you felt wrong leaving you behind. I watched out the window—some nights—praying that this would be the one you would remember me and come home.

But you never came.

So life moved on without you, at least on the outside. My dreams of you coming home grew distant as the years rolled on. Some were harder than others.  There were many beautiful moments, others were dark and lonely—but every day I still longed for a dad to call my own.

Then I grew up. I married and started my family. Times were not always easy. Some days I still dreamed of being the little girl on your lap drawing you pictures of butterflies and hearing your stories of when you were a little boy. Some nights I cried as I rocked my babies—longing for time to rewind so you could have the chance to give me what I was living for them.

My life has been hard Dad, but tonight I don’t write you this letter to put you down for all the things you were not for me. I wanted to thank you.

Thank you for leaving, because it is the broken pieces that you left that came together to make me who I am today.  All those years ago, I thought it was you I needed to be strong. Turns out you played your role perfectly. Because had I not fought to be better than a used and broken little girl, I might not ever had discovered that it wasn’t you that was going to make me happy. It was me . . . and God.

I sometimes wish I would have known you father. Every shooting star, every candle, every turkey bone on Thanksgiving—my wish was always the same. I wished I had a dad who wanted me . . . I wished you would come back and be my father.

But today my wish has changed. I want you to know I forgive you, because without you—and all that you didn’t do—I wouldn’t be me. Because of you I fight every day to make sure my children know they are priceless, and amazing, and worth every sacrifice I have ever made for them. Every day I make sure they never feel like they are a burden.

Maybe God planned it this way after all, maybe in heaven you promised him you would come down as the man who would fail me. Maybe God knew that without that story, I wouldn’t have found Him. Maybe it is my story that makes me the mom I fight every day to be.

I lost a lot of things the day you left—but I didn’t lose me.

So this year I don’t celebrate Father’s Day with regrets of who you weren’t for me. I will celebrate the man who gave me life. I won’t cry for all the years you weren’t there, or the moments in your grandchildren’s lives that you are missing.  

I will be thankful that I have a father—somewhere in this world—who gave me life, because it has been beautiful.

I have a Father who created me in heaven, who thinks I am perfect just the way I am. He will never leave me. 

So please forgive me for all the years I wasted hating you for not loving me the way I wanted to be loved. I have no regrets—not any more—and I hope you have found all the happiness in the world, where ever your journey has taken you.

Mother told me years ago that you were the one who taught me how to walk by holding my hand . . . but when you let go—that lonely day you left me—that is the moment God taught me how to stand. 

Sincerely, 

Your daughter

A letter to "Stepdads"

Dear Husband,

Today I sat at the final basketball game of the season for our oldest son. In the seat to the right of me was my mother-in-law. To the left was my other mother-in-law . . . your mom. They both cheered loud for our son and watched you coach his team.

I had a moment today. As I watched you out on the court—coaching and cheering on our son—I thought about the road that got us here. It has been four years since you came into our life. Today I realized something I may have been taking for granted all these years: You chose to be here.

I sometimes forget the feeling of sitting at the funeral—just a few years back—and aching that my five kids would not have a dad to help raise them. I forget how my body hurt just thinking about all the moments that we would do alone. I cried many tears for the fact that my sons would never have a dad to teach them how to play ball, or give them advice about girls. I thought about all the dances and first dates the girls would leave for without a dad to tell them they looked beautiful.

I knew one day I would remarry—I hoped they would one day have a stepdad—but I just knew it would never be the same.

And then there you were. It felt like I was in a dream—at first—having you love me. Most of the time I felt unworthy of love, but—no matter how hard I tried to push you away—you loved me anyway. You made my kids feel special and you were always trying to be there for them. It wasn’t always easy for you—I could see how hard it was some days to all the sudden have to balance six kids. I know it was a sacrifice in many ways for you to give the other five some of the energy and love you used to be able to give to just one.

Some days I forget you could have looked at us as used baggage. You could have seen the trauma and imperfections, you could have seen how broken we were—but you didn’t.  You chose to see so much more—even more than I could see—you saw us.  I sometimes forget that you were not always here with me. I forget that you had a life without me; but I also forget that you fell in love with all of us—and chose to marry the whole package. I forget that your options were endless—and you still choose us.

Our family isn’t normal. We haven’t always been together—like other families have. Sometimes that is hard, and it makes us think maybe all the work isn’t worth the fight. But sweet husband—today I see you. The you that works hard to love the kids he didn’t get to help create. I see you—the man who fathers by choice instead of obligation. I see you—the man who chose to be a dad, to five children who had lost hope in having one.

Being a “stepdad” probably wasn’t ever part of your plan. That’s the crazy part about life—our plans are going to fail. But thank you for taking your failed plan and finding us in ours . . . and becoming a father.

Those moments I just knew life was never going to be the same—I was right—life has never been the same since my babies lost their father . . . and it never will be. But today as I looked out at a basketball game and watched a “stepdad” coach a little boy— I remembered you were always meant to be his father.

We aren’t always going to understand the WHY’s of this life . . . but the joy that I felt today helped me understand the HOW’s. God had a plan for us . . . and He gave us YOU.

Anyone can become a father—thousands of them are made every single day—but not everyone would choose to step in and become a dad. That kind of a parent takes an extra special person—one like you.

Love,

Your wife

~The kids today after the game with Shawn's mom and dad, and Emmett's mom, dad, and stepdad~

Fathers: A Reason to Live

The sun has gone down. My house is silent—besides the sound of the air conditioning turning on and off, and the thoughts in my mind.

It was a beautiful summer Sunday. We celebrated a lot of fathers today—my own father, Shawn’s dad, Emmett’s dad, my brother-in-law Will, my brother Josh, and Shawn. A room full of dads—fathers worth celebrating. The day was close to perfect for me.

Tonight as I ponder over the word father, my heart is full reflecting on all the men in my life I have watched live that title. Some have lived it with class and grace; others have had many moments of failures. Some have chosen a different course for a while, and others have willingly stepped up to a plate that wasn’t always theirs to begin with.

There are all different types of fathers. Some only participate in creating a life. Some fathers only stick around until things get hard; some are there through the ups and the downs. Some fathers work so much they hardly see their children; others just wish they could find a job to provide for their family. Some have money where love is lacking; other fathers have time where money runs short. Some give parenthood everything they have; others only give when there is something left. Some fathers think only of their children; others only of themselves. Some fathers know how to love; some have forgotten along the way. Some fathers are forced into parenthood; and others choose it willingly.

So what makes a father? Is it just a one-time event—or is it a life long journey? Can just anyone be a father, a “sperm donor”, or a check writer . . . or is being a dad a daily choice these men have to make?

I don’t know the answers for anyone individually, but I know as a mother I have so many dreams for my children.

I used to dream of perfection—to start a family with a man who would be everything our creations deserved—loyal, caring, kind, happy, playful, loving, honoring, and virtuous. I used to have a plan for my children’s happiness—a perfect life that would always bring them smiles.

Only today—as I look back—I can see the very moment where my plan failed me, and tried to break my family. And today—as I look back—I can see the very moment where a different plan began.

My children have two dads. One who gave them life—who lost his way and never made it back to us to finish the job he had started. And one who has given them a reason to live—who will finish the job that was left undone.

I didn’t know, when I brought these babies into the world, that I wouldn’t be able to protect them from pain—but I also wasn’t aware that their Heavenly Father was going to watch over them at all costs.

Maybe that is the gift the real dads of the world have been given—the gift to protect. The gift to cherish what they have been given—and the gift to see the blessings that are right in front of their eyes.

Fatherhood is not a right—it is a privilege. Parenthood is a God given blessing given to us from Him, in an effort for us to strive to be like Him. To protect these children of ours, and to cherish them.

If the father you were given has forgotten the beautiful gift that you are . . . never forget you have a Heavenly Father who remembers. He is proud that you are His creation. He doesn’t just smile at the unique person you are—He cherishes the fact that you are His.

To all the fathers who wonder why you work so hard, please know we see you . . . we honor you—and we love you.

It is a job that never ends. Every day your willingness to fight for it will be challenged in different ways. Every day your struggles will try to get you to doubt your worthiness of this blessing of fatherhood.

Fathers . . . don’t stop fighting. We need you. We want you—not to write checks or babysit so we can have a break—we need you to put on your armor and step up to the plate. Be the father your family deserves. Show them that you cherish their mother. I can promise you it will change the way they see themselves—and the way they choose their spouse. Treat their mother the way you would want your daughter to be treated, because the only example she will have someday is what she saw you do.

Little boys want to be their dad someday, and little girls want to marry a man just like him.

So dads . . . no pressure, but it is time to live life for real. If today was your very last day—who is it you are going to be?

I thought for so long my mission was to help people avoid all the bad things of the world so their spouse never found themselves sitting on a couch with detectives hearing about a secret life and two shots of a gun. But I am starting to realize there is more to life than avoiding deadly sins. Living life isn’t just avoiding bad choices, death and heartache. Living life is about being present—protecting the ones we love, but also being there for them.

At the end of it all what are they going to remember?

As a daughter and a wife I beg each father to clear your view and see. Feel. Love. Those children, and that sweetheart need . . . YOU. They want the real you, the one who laughs, the one who holds them close, and the one who doesn’t just give them life . . . but gives them a reason to live.

Fathers, your job is important. You are the one these children are looking to—to know they are enough. Thank you for all the good you bring to this world—for all the moments you choose to stand.

Fathers Day 2015