One day you will read this. I’m not sure when, but you will.
The first thing I want you to know is this: I love you.
Not because of what you do. Not because of what you accomplish. Not because of who you become. I love you simply because you are my son.
It’s been nearly ten months since you were born, and they have been the most rewarding months of my life. I’ll admit, though, they’ve also been some of the most challenging. Your mom and I have both been working through residency, and there have been seasons when our schedules made it feel like we barely saw you. There have been bedtimes we’ve missed, milestones we’ve worried about missing, and moments we’ve wished we could slow down.
Everyone tells us how quickly these years pass. The older I get, the more I realize they’re right.
So I try to soak it all in. Your smile when I walk through the door. The way you reach for me. The way you light up a room without even trying. I know there will come a day when you won’t greet me with that same excitement. There will be seasons when you need me less. There may even be seasons when you don’t particularly like me.
It’s funny to think about that because right now, I can’t see you as anything other than my baby.
But you will grow up.
You will face challenges. You will get hurt. You will be disappointed. You will fail. There will be days when life feels unfair and you wonder why things didn’t work out the way you hoped. In many ways, I think you will grow up in a world that’s more complicated than the one I grew up in. There will be countless voices competing for your attention, distractions pulling you in every direction, and pressures I can’t fully understand yet.
At the same time, you will experience incredible joy.
You will have victories worth celebrating. You will accomplish things that make you proud. You will have moments when you look back and think, “That was the coolest thing ever.”
I can’t wait to watch it all unfold.
But I want you to remember something that I am still learning myself:
What you do is not who you are.
I think that’s one of the hardest lessons in life.
If your identity becomes rooted in achievements, life will always leave you wanting more. There will always be another award. Another promotion. Another accomplishment. Another mountain to climb. None of those things are wrong. In fact, I hope you dream big. I hope you work hard. I hope you pursue excellence in whatever God calls you to do.
I genuinely believe you are capable of incredible things.
But I hope you never confuse what you accomplish with who you are.
Some of the most frustrating and unfulfilling seasons of my life came when I did exactly that. Success makes a terrible foundation because it can never fully satisfy the heart.
I also want you to know something else.
I will fail you at times.
I will disappoint you.
Not because I don’t love you. Not because I don’t care. But because I am human.
There will be moments when I don’t have the right answer. There will be moments when I lose patience, make mistakes, or wish I could have handled something differently. I’ve already felt that tension as your dad. I’ve felt the weight of missed bedtimes, missed meals, missed playtimes, and the realization that time moves far faster than I want it to.
Those moments remind me how precious this calling really is.
So while I can’t promise perfection, I can promise effort.
I can promise that I will give you everything I have.
I can promise that I will fight to be fully present.
I can promise that I will never stop trying to become the father you deserve.
Because being your dad is the most important job I will ever have.
And then there is one promise that matters even more.
I will spend my life trying to help you see your perfect Heavenly Father through your imperfect earthly father.
As I write this for Father’s Day, I’m also mindful that today can be a difficult day for many people. Some are missing a father they loved deeply. Some carry wounds from a father who wasn’t there. Some desperately want to be a parent and haven’t yet had that opportunity. Some have experienced the unimaginable pain of losing a child.
If that’s you, I hope you know you’re seen today.
And SJ, I hope you always remember this truth:
No matter how long I am here, you will always have a Heavenly Father who loves you more than I ever could.
You have a Heavenly Father who will never leave you.
Never fail you.
Never abandon you.
Never stop pursuing you.
You have a Heavenly Father who knows exactly who you were created to be and who can guide you far better than I ever will. If you trust Him, He will lead you into a life and an eternity greater than anything this world could ever offer.
There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.
There is no place I wouldn’t go for you.
There is no sacrifice I wouldn’t make for you.
And there will never be a day when I stop loving you or being proud to call you my son.
This first Father’s Day is my favorite Father’s Day of all time.
Not because of gifts.
Not because of celebration.
Not because of anything I’ve done.
But because of you.
Thank you for giving me the privilege of being your dad.
It is, without question, my favorite job and my greatest blessing.
I love you.
Until next time,
Stay positive.
Stay persistent.
Stay patient.
#DrB
