Not Just Some Guy

Another year, another Father’s Day.   Usually I wind up giving a talk at church about fathers—I have no idea why, though I’m sure God is trying to tell me something—but this year I just got to reflect.

A father isn't just some guy we know.  Fatherhood is an essential part of every man’s identity and purpose, regardless of whether or not he has his own children.  It's the most important thing he can ever be or do. Fatherhood is more than shared chromosomes.  It’s more than bankrolling someone’s life or bullying them into chores or telling terrible jokes to embarrass your kid.

Being a dad is about showing up.  It is about encouraging children to be brave, strong, a little reckless. It’s about accountability, leadership, service and sacrifice.  Fathers protect, guide, and provide the firm foundation to build (or rail) against.  All too often we lavish attention on mothers—and rightfully so—but we diminish or overlook the importance of a father.  This is a great disservice to both men and the children who need them. 

My own father was a force for good and evil in my life.   He taught me to be assertive, to value intelligence and logic, to work hard and have high standards; he also deeply scarred me with his casual unkindness and his ultimate abandonment of my mother, brother, and me.  I get my love of adventure from him. He would pack my brother and I in the truck and drive for hours to hunt quartz crystals or see a ghost town full of burros.  When my family was stationed in Germany, he drove us from Italy to Norway and everywhere he could west of the Berlin Wall.  Stateside, we were schlepped along on meandering road trips so he could claim he'd visited all 50 states.  I never felt like a burden on these trips, and his love of travel and random wonders is something I've tried to share with my kids.  

My maternal grandfather, Papi, was a good man.  Papi collected strays of every variety.  The worst thing I ever heard him say about someone was to call them a “dirty bird.”  He had a ready laugh and worked hard all of his life.  He raised three kids, only one of them biologically his, and loved them all dearly. Some of my earliest memories revolve around his brick-walled living room, watching skunks snuffling cat food off the back patio and an old black-and-white serial western on the box tv. He was always there when he was needed; more than once he made the 10-hour drive from his house to ours to help with some home emergency or project.  He exemplified the best of the Greatest Generation.

My husband is the best father I could ask for our children.  When they were small, he’d carry and snuggle them constantly. He encouraged them to climb—furniture, walls, trees, boulders—even when I’d rather he didn’t.  Now that they’re no longer conveniently travel-sized he spends hours talking them through the crises of youth and the ideas of our times, lately doing so while simultaneously teaching them swordplay.  He's sacrificed his time, life, and agency to provide for them, even though his job often took him away.  A few weeks ago he urged our oldest three to take a 10-hour solo trip across Texas to the coast.  I was apprehensive, but he continuously assured all of us that it would be fine—and that it would be more than fine, that it was necessary.  He was proven right.  The girls had an incredible trip, planning with and relying on and taking care of each other.  It was an experience they wouldn’t have had except for their father’s encouragement and trust.

There have been other fathers in my life who have made me feel seen and loved, and this day is for them as well.  Rick’s grandfather was a model of charity, discipline, and faith.  My father-in-law was welcoming and protective.  My mother's second husband, Mike, swept up my kids and was an adoring grandpa.  Some of my bishops have been sources of guidance, encouragement, and affirmation. Teachers have pushed me and challenged me and offered advice.  Some fathers were only a brief moment of my life, like the man at the gym who tried to save me from smashing my head into some weights equipment I didn’t see, or the soldier who helped me up after I fell with Brenna as a baby, checking her over and calming the fears of an inexperienced mother.  The fact that I remember them after all these years just underlines their importance.

However they manifest in our lives, good fathers are crucial and irreplaceable.  They play a role that no mother or other relationship can replace. Regardless of his exact familial relation, a father can have an eternal impact on those he nurtures.  So here’s to the fathers who show up, who care, who teach, who protect, who correct, who push, who believe, who love.  You have more of an impact than you’ll ever possibly know.

Happy Father's Day.