The Perfect Father

Since becoming a father, I’ve been reflecting a lot on my own childhood and on my dad—what he gave me, what I’ve learned from him, and the ways I’m trying to carve out my own path as a father. Growing up, my dad was steady, always working hard, always serving our family without complaint. He wasn’t the loudest voice in the room, nor the one cheering on the sidelines at every game. And as a kid, I didn’t always understand that.

There were times when I wished he’d shown up in more obvious ways, asked more questions, or been more involved in the little details of my life. But now that I have Judah, I realize how much of my father I carry with me, and how much I’ve come to appreciate the quiet strength he showed. His love was there in the way he served, the way he provided, and the way he was always a calm, consistent presence, even if it wasn’t always front and center.

As a new dad, I often feel a mix of gratitude and fear. I want to be there for everything—every milestone, every smile, every struggle. But I also worry about falling short. There are days when I wonder if the choices I make will leave lasting repercussions, and if Judah will look back wishing I had been more present, more vocal, or more involved. Those thoughts weigh on me sometimes. But then I think of my dad, and I realize he wasn’t failing—he was showing me a different kind of love, one I couldn’t fully see at the time.

Navigating fatherhood, I’m learning to accept that I won’t always get it right. I’m realizing that I don’t have to be perfect, because Judah already has a perfect Father—the same one who has carried my dad, and the same one who carries me. Our strength comes from reliance on the Father’s faithfulness, and that truth takes the pressure off my shoulders.

So, thank you, Dad, for showing me that love doesn’t have to be loud to be real. Thank you for teaching me, through your quiet strength, that fatherhood is about showing up, trusting in something greater than ourselves, and knowing that, as dads, we don’t have to be perfect. We already have a Father who is.