I know. It’s supposed to be a celebration. And it’s supposed to look something like this.
The beaming children come bounding into their parents’ room, bearing a homemade breakfast and cards for their wonderful father. His proud and loving wife kisses him on the check and presents the traditional father’s day present of a tie, or a golf accessory, or some other gift that says clearly “here’s the role you should fit into.” For the rest of the day, the father is permitted some level of comfort and ease as the family honors his hard work and providential care.
Something like that.
If you noticed that this is a sweeping generalization, you’re right. Here’s yet another one:
The angry, frustrated mom who has been left hanging by an irresponsible and uncaring dad reminds everyone on Facebook that she is bearing both roles. A firestorm of comments and cyber-bickering ensues over the proper application of this holiday, as dads argue that their day is only for them, and moms and children who have been hurt by deadbeat dads rally for the inclusion of single moms who have to step in for absent fathers.
Both of these situations are extreme examples. The truth is, I’m not trying to give a blanket pat on the back to dads everywhere, nor do I want to belittle those that have been irrevocably scarred by the absence or neglect of a dad.
I’ll tell yet another story.
A dad is talking to his wife, when she gently corrects him on a topic. He, being preoccupied with a project, answers her gruffly and with a bit of disdain. The kids hear this disrespectful reply and wonder what’s the problem. The wife, angered but seeking to avoid a conflict in front of the kids, chooses to say nothing and wait til a more opportune time to discuss how hurt she was.
I am the dad in the third story. The event happened one day before this was written, and it preceded a long talk with my wife on how I have missed a lot of emotional and relational cues in my family lately.
I’m not playing the victim in this situation. My family is absolutely right. In my zeal to provide income and make big strides in my career, I have often allowed their needs to go unmet and their words to go unheard.
So, am I simply beating up on myself this Father’s Day for not being a great dad?
No. Actually, I’m trying to make clear that the flaws and failures of fatherhood should be celebrated as well.
It’s not a negative thing to acknowledge that every single man who has taken on this responsibility is dealing with an internal sense of failure and fear.
While Father’s Day celebrates responsibility for our families, the ugly truth is many of us, myself included, were not being very responsible when we became fathers. We learned quickly that we would have to overcome our immaturity and become leaders, guides and mentors for our kids. We had once sought out answers from others. We are now expected to know the answers.
In my case, I have a wonderful father as a model. But he is flawed, and I can now celebrate those flaws. I can honestly say that I’m glad my dad wasn’t perfect. Because if he wasn’t perfect, then I can accept that I won’t be perfect either.
Perhaps we need a third kind of response to Father’s Day.
Not the blanket dismissal of dads, and not a whitewashing of our issues. No, I propose we celebrate our flaws and our failures. I want my kids to know that dad doesn’t do it right all the time. That the path to my maturity has required many mistakes.
I’m not perfect. But I am being perfected.
My success is possible because I’ve failed, and will fail again.
My goal is not to be the best dad. It’s to be a better man.
If I do that, my fatherhood experience will be one that I can be proud of.
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