Archives For fathers

There are things that bother me. And things that bother me.

For instance, the Bachelor/ette bothers me. I can’t stand the contrived drama, and the way the show makes light of love.

Something, on the other hand, that bothers me, just really gets under my skin, is how I can be with my son, how he gets under my skin.

The thing is, I feel like I struggle more than I should–like it doesn’t come naturally. And maybe that’s true.

But the fact is: the things about him that most bother me are not our differences, but our similarities. As the father, so the son.

He’s just like me.

And that, at times, gets under my skin. Because I want him to better than me. When the time comes, I want him to be there for his kids in ways that I wasn’t for him.

And I commit to you all to continue to struggle on as a husband, and a dad. Like that other, more famous (Indiana) Jones, I feel like I’m making this up as I go along. But I am going along.

What I want–(“tell me you want, what you really, really want”)–is for my son, both my kids, to live a better story than I ever have.

That’s where you come in. In trying to live a better life–a better story–before the eyes of my wife, kids, you, I’m asking for your prayers.

Will you commit to pray for me as I lead my family in love? As I continue to pour my heart out here on the blog?

Thanks, and God bless you,


How can I pray for you?

Yes, this post made an appearance last week. I’m reporting part of it because it’s been picked up by FaithVillage, and will be going up over there sometime this afternoon. It has been revised since its initial appearance here.

Without further ado, here’s a portion of “His Father’s Son”:

I recently learned something about my childhood that I have no memories of. I don’t doubt it–it rings true. It’s regarding me, my dad, and playing ball. I’m told I was about three at the time, and my dad wanted to teach me how to play catch.

The catch is that he was an accomplished athlete, and I was a gangly toddler. And each time he threw–I’m guessing it was a football–and I didn’t catch, he would throw harder.

At my stomach.

(This post will be updated with the link to the FaithVillage article when it goes live).

Read the rest at FaithVillage.

Thanks for being the greatest readers ever!