Nine years ago, I became a father. My wife and I had it all planned out. We knew exactly when we wanted to start a family, but when the moment came, we were scared. Could we do it? Were we financially stable enough? Were we mature enough? Was it exactly the right time? Who knows? It’s probably never the right time. You just swallow your fear and charge in.
Jackie went into labor in the middle of the night. We rushed to the hospital with “go bags” packed and the car gassed up. Twelve hours later our son was born. The three days in the recovery room were an exhausting whirlwind. I slept on the little couch in the room each night not wanting to miss a moment. But it wasn’t really until we got home that it hit me how much my life had changed.
That first morning, I woke up with him at 5:00 a.m. and held him in the rocking chair in his room. I looked at that little man resting quietly on my chest and realized with overwhelming certainty that I loved him completely. For years, I’d loved God. I’d loved my parents, my siblings, my friends. I’d loved my wife. But my son was somehow different. He added a new dimension to my understanding of the very concept of love itself. I knew in an instant I would give anything in my life for him.
We’ve had three more kids since. I am blessed. With each little one my preparation has declined a little. There are no more go bags and Jackie sends me home at night when she’s in recovery so we can both sleep. We’re a bit less strict, and much slower to rush to the doctor or ER. We’ve had successes and struggles and moments more remarkable and terrifying than any I’d felt before.
Here on my ninth Father’s Day, I’m reflecting on nine of the things my kids have taught me about love.
Unconditional love is easier. In his beautiful article, “How Will You Measure Your Life,” the late Clay Christensen argues it’s easier to keep a habit 100% of the time than 99% of the time. The rationale is that if you pre-commit to do something (e.g., brush your teeth nightly, observe the Sabbath) it takes all the pressure off. The decision is made. Love is like that, too. When my son was born, I knew that I loved him without condition. Would I stop if he failed at something? No. Would I stop if he made choices I wouldn’t? Of course not? What if he stopped loving me? No, not even then. And in that moment, I realized how light the burden of unconditional love can be. It’s total. It’s unquestioning. All the decisions and judgments of the moment are gone.
Love is a daily commitment. My wife likes to call the marriage commitment “decision love.” You don’t always feel in love. But you’ve promised it, so day-by-day you live up to that promise, no matter the difficulty. Similarly, kids can challenge your feeling for them. They disobey you. They yell at you. They hurt you. They may even say they hate you. It can feel bad. It can provoke anger. But each day you remember that you love them without limit, and you try to choose love over anger and mercy over justice.
Love sets limits. One day recently, my youngest discovered donuts. They were a revelation. He couldn’t get enough (I know the feeling). So, my wife let him eat as many as he wanted, and a few hours later he tossed those donuts right back up (a mistake I’ve made with one of the other kids, lest people read this as a criticism of my darling wife). A woman who helps us with the kids sometimes admonished us, “Limitation is love!” That phrase stuck with us. When we were kids, we hated the limits our parents set on us, not knowing they were good for us. As a religious believer, I’m sometimes frustrated that God won’t give me what I want. But as children our perspective is incomplete. And those who love us are right to constrain us. “Nos” are hard for kids. They are bewildering and frustrating. They make kids unhappy. But love doesn’t always look like happiness. Sometimes it looks like limits.
Love is present. Prior to COVID, I was traveling too much for work and would stay at the office too long. Often, I was on the road 3-4 days per week. I’d leave the house before the kids got up and too frequently miss out on dinner when home. And I convinced myself that what mattered was quality not quantity time. Then, I spent every day for a year at home with my family, and my perspective changed. My being present made them happier. It improved our relationships. Daily breakfast and dinner kept us connected, and the little moments I had always missed became invaluable to me. Now I’m back on the road again. I work hard. I don’t make it to every meal. But I’m conscious that the quality and quantity of our time matters. I try to be home more. And when I’m with the kids, I try (often unsuccessfully) to put away my other worries, step away from my phone, and be fully present with them.
Love really keeps no records of wrongs. In his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said, “[Love] keeps no record of wrongs.” But I never really believed Him. I was conscious of my failures and thought those I’d failed could never truly forgive me. I held a few grudges myself. Then I had kids. And I realized that even after almost a decade of kids breaking my things, taking me for granted, and peeing on my floors…none of it has changed the way I feel for them. Their accounts with me are clean. And that’s made me wonder, could others possibly feel that way about me? And what would it look like for me to extend that kind of grace to everyone who needs it in my life?
Love requires sacrifice. You don’t really love someone until you love them more than you love yourself. It took me a long time to really get this one. If I’m honest, in retrospect, I didn’t even understand this when I got married. Because no matter how much I loved others, I was always protective of the things I carved out for myself. With four little ones that’s no longer possible. I can’t fully serve myself and fully serve them…so, on balance, I have to prioritize them. Intellectually I’d always known you should love others before self. But I’d never fully internalized that before kids. Now I know I wouldn’t just sacrifice my life for them, but the little things that matter more day-to-day, like gym time, hobbies, or time alone to read. Unconditional love requires unconditional willingness to sacrifice.
Love makes you vulnerable. Three of my four kids have had very scary episodes that put them in the hospital. Each time we felt the fear we might lose them. And it was total, paralyzing, stomach churning fear. Garth Brooks had a wonderful song, “Standing Outside the Fire,” that went in part, “We call them fools, who are unable to resist, the slightest chance love might exist, and for that forsake it all.” Loving someone totally and without reservation exposes you. It’s raw. It lays you bare. And when you fear you may lose them, it threatens to crush you. But there is no love without the risk of loss. You can’t get deep, satisfying joy without total vulnerability.
Love is fleeting. There’s an old saying in parenting that the days are long but the years are short. When you are in the moment-to-moment battle of bath times, temper tantrums, meal prep, and diaper changing the hours can sometimes stretch on. You’re busy. And you it’s tempting to be exhausted and miss the chance to savor the moment. But the moment is so fleeting. My youngest is now nearing two. At night, either my wife or I still snuggles him to sleep in the rocking chair in his room. Sometimes it takes an hour, sitting quietly in the dark or singing him songs. But I cherish it. Because now that the other three are older, I know that one day this little routine will suddenly change and I will never experience it again. There is always tomorrow. There’s always some new phase, new experience. But each one is precious and ephemeral, like a flower that blooms beautifully and fades away. It’s far too easy to miss these moments and far too hard to remember them when they pass.
Love is worth it. So why do this? Why be a parent? Why love anyone this way? It’s hard. It’s sacrificial. It’s exhausting. It’s heartbreaking. It’s maddening. But it’s also purposeful. It’s life-giving. It’s transformative. It’s mind-altering. It’s funny and fun. It’s beautiful…endlessly beautiful. Love is worth all it requires of us and so much more.
Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there pouring their lives into their kids, and to all the moms who do so in equal measure. Most of all, “thank you” to my kids who have radically transformed my life and make me better each and every day. I’m so grateful to them and hope they each one day experience the same type of adoration for others that I feel for them.
Nine things my kids have taught me about love
Loved it.
Nicely written and expressed John. Your kids are fortunate