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Standing in the shadow of your father, what one word best describes him?

If he's wealthy and prominent, and you stand in awe of him, call him “Father.” If he sits in his shirt sleeves and suspenders at a ball game and picnic, call him “Pop.” If he wheels the baby carriage and carries, bundles meekly, call him “Papa” (with the accent on the first syllable). If he belongs to a literary circle and writes cultured papers, call him “Papa” (with the accent on the last syllable).

If, however, he makes a pal of you when you're good, and is too wise to let you pull the wool over his loving eyes when you're not if, moreover, you're quite sure no other fellow you know has quite so fine a father, you may call him “Dad” (Tim Hansel, What Kids Need Most in a Dad, p. 16).

Now it's your turn. What do you call yours? Or if he's gone on to glory, what did you call him? A lot of people I know would answer without hesitation, “Absent.” Much as I would prefer to soften the blows or speak in defense of all dads, there's a growing number of folks who refuse to be ignored any longer. They miss their dad! They never wanted substitutes: things to play with or money for lunch, a car for graduation or their own room or a Hawaiian honeymoon nearly as much as they wanted the presence and influence of a dad. Not all day, you understand, (they're realistic enough to realize that can't be), but time with him … to talk to, listen to, laugh with, mess around with, learn from, and grow from the man who loved their mother enough to conceive them. “Where is he now?” they ask.

There's more loneliness in their voices than bitterness. More “I wish” than “I hate.” Somehow, some way … there's a longing for those strong arms and that familiar voice. Emotional distance does a number on relationships, even when adulthood replaces adolescence.

It is possible that you've gotten overly committed, so super-involved in your work or some away-from-home project that it is draining your time and energy. I understand, believe me, I do. Or maybe it's hard for you to come up close and be vulnerable even with your kids—you may really prefer “Father” to “Pop” or “Dad.” Again, I can't fault you for the way you've been put together. You can't be someone you're not … nor should you try to fake it. But surely between a distant patriarch and a down-home, easy-goin' daddy there's a common ground … a place to meet, time to be, room to hear, to feel, to care, to touch.

How easy to get squeezed into a system that began with the Industrial Revolution. A mass migration brought people from quiet, family-oriented farms to busy cities, big factories, and tight living quarters. Urban fathers left home early and returned late. By the mid twentieth century, even the grandfathers, once the revered, wise sages of homesteads, were shunted off to retirement villages or old folks' homes. Imperceptibly, dads have become shadows in dark rooms. Instead of appealing to fathers to give of themselves, the system now encourages them to give the stuff that their increased salaries can buy — a better education, material possessions, nicer homes, personal TVs and computers; the list goes on. But what about Dad himself? And that priceless apprenticeship learned in his presence? And that healthy masculine influence? And that integrity which rubs off the older onto the younger? It's gotten lost in the shuffle. Somewhere between then and now, the adversary has won a tragic victory, which no church, no school, no occupation, no therapy group, no hobby can fully overcome. The Absent Father has emerged.

C'mon, dads, let's lead a revolt! Let's give it our best shot! Let's refuse to take our cues from the system any longer. Let's start saying no to more and more of the things that pull us farther and farther away from the ones who need us the most. Let's remember that the greatest earthly gifts we can provide are our presence and influence while we live, and a magnificent memory of our lives once we're gone. You're not perfect? So, what else is new? You don't know exactly how to pull it off? Welcome to the club all dads belong to. The graffiti sign usually comes to my mind when I hear such excuses: “Life ain't no exact science.” Which, being interpreted, means, “You ain't Clark Kent, so don't sweat it.” Your family doesn't expect profound perfection, command performances, or a superhuman plan. Just you — warts and all — your smile, your affirmation, your gentleness, your support, your leadership, your involvement … YOU!

C'mon, dads! Let's get started before all the kids have is a memory of us — the shadowy memory in the back of their minds of two ships that once passed in the night.


Copyright Charles R. Swindoll Inc. All rights reserved worldwide.

About the Author:  Charles R. Swindoll



Charles R. Swindoll