There are no awards or gratification for the things that need to be done.
The task is simple. The responsibilities are layered.
But at the end of the day, your role as a dad is to…
What, exactly?
What pictures have you painted or stories have you told yourself to define that role?
Is it being strong enough to fight?
Providing and putting food on the table?
Defusing conflict and staying calm under pressure?
Maybe it’s all of those—and something more.
Either way you cut it, being a dad is a massive responsibility.
And also, the greatest blessing a man can be given.
To one day be called “Dad.”
To hold that title and know that you’re the father of a child.
To feel the sudden shock of “What do I do now?”
To carry the quiet weight of wondering if you’ll figure it out.
You question your ability to do all the things:
To protect.
To provide.
To love.
How am I going to be everything this child needs?
Why does this feel like the greatest challenge and most heroic story I’ll ever live?
I’m lucky. I had a front-row seat.
My dad—he modeled what it means to lead a family.
He persevered. He made the right choices, at least from my view.
He showed me what a father looks like.
And now, as I walk this road myself, I find myself trying to emulate him—
not perfectly, but intentionally.
The older I get, the more I understand.
The wider the lens, the clearer the picture.
I see the sacrifices more clearly.
The choices. The weight he carried.
I’ve only tasted the challenges, and yet my appreciation has multiplied a hundredfold.
My own kids are still young—but not for long.
Double digits are coming. Then the teenage years. Then adulthood.
Right now, I get a lot of props for being a “good dad.”
And in the back of my mind, there’s always this whisper:
“I still have time to mess this up.”
Not because I expect it.
Not because I fear it.
But because I understand—life happens, and some days, you’re just doing your best to play the hand you’re dealt.
I’m blessed to have an incredible wife—
She supports our kids and gives me space to be the dad I’m trying to become.
Each of my children needs something different.
Different personalities. Different rhythms.
And my job is to meet them where they are.
To create space where they can grow, explore, feel seen—and feel safe.
I lose sleep sometimes, thinking about what I’ve missed.
The lessons I forgot to teach.
The moments I didn’t lean in when I should have.
And then I think back to my own childhood…
My dad made me feel capable.
He gave me confidence to be who I was.
He showed me what hard work looked like.
He provided. He protected.
He loved. He still does.
Not long ago, I told my dad I loved him.
And he asked, “Why?”
I’m not sure if it was rhetorical or not—
But I didn’t hold back.
I told him I see it now.
I see how hard it is to raise a family.
And I told him how deeply grateful I am for everything he’s done.
I love my dad beyond what words on this page can capture.
And I hope—I pray—that I can pass that same kind of love down to my kids.
To every father still in the fight:
Happy Father’s Day.
You’re doing more than you know.