The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother.
– Reverend Theodore M. Hesburgh
What does fatherhood mean today in America?
I guess the same as it always has.
Fatherhood can sometimes be walking the floor at midnight with a baby that can’t sleep. More likely, fatherhood is repairing a bicycle wheel for the umpteenth time, knowing that it won’t last the afternoon. Fatherhood is guiding a youth through the wilderness of adolescence toward adulthood.
Fatherhood is holding tight when all seems to be falling apart; and it’s letting go when it is time to part.
Does it matter what we wear to church?!
A colleague broached this question a few days ago and it reminded me of my early days as a Christian, back at Calvary Chapel in Costa Mesa, California.
By the time I accepted Christ in high school the “hippie” movement was in full swing, as was the “Jesus movement” – a dynamic uprising of young Christians whose style and manner of worship was pretty unconventional, at least compared with that of the prior generation.
Franz Beckenbauer is one of the most decorated “footballers” (soccer players) in the history of the game. The sixty-year-old retired German star now serves the sport in an executive capacity and writes a regular column for a European tabloid. And although I’m not a fan of soccer, I recently came across a wire story that speaks beyond the mechanics of the sport itself.
Mr. Beckenbauer was asked the other day about a player named Arjen Robben, a highly touted Dutch winger.
Speaking on behalf of most men, I can say with confidence that guys love the thrill of a challenge. And although it might pale in comparison to summiting Mount Everest or running with the bulls in Pamplona, Spain, today’s radio program features a special invitation to all married men to “man up.”
First, some context:
In the process of doing some research, one of my colleagues came across a poignant Veterans Day tribute. It dates back over 45 years, but the sentiments are powerful and timeless. Sadly, thousands of mothers and fathers today can relate to the following words of a woman named Mrs. Katherine Jones of Porterville, California, which appeared in the Porterville Evening Recorder in November of 1967:
To the editor:
I am only one of several mothers in Porterville who have lost sons in Vietnam during the past year, but as one mother, this is my tribute to my son.
Lt. Col. (Ret) Richard Korthals, a beloved Focus volunteer for over a decade and a decorated veteran of World War II, passed away this past Sunday morning. He was just one month shy of his 89th birthday.
From the fields of his family’s La Crosse, Wisconsin, farm, as a young boy Dick would look with wonder to the skies, dreaming of one day becoming a pilot. His dream came true. He went on to serve our nation in the Army Air Corps of Engineers, ultimately tasked with flying a C-47 transport plane in the Philippines between 1943 and 1945.
There might not be any crying in baseball, at least according to Hollywood script writers, but fans of the Los Angeles Dodgers have recently shed tears of a different type.
Frank and Jamie McCourt met as freshmen at Georgetown University. Upon graduation they were married and embarked on an exciting life together, raising four sons and managing several successful business ventures. A life-long Red Sox fan, Frank attempted to purchase the famed Boston club, but he was outbid.
Do you pay attention to detail – even detail that nobody but God can see?
Back when United States Supreme Court Chief Justice John Roberts was a lawyer preparing for oral arguments, he would spend countless hours with a pen and legal pad. During that time he would speculate on the hundreds of possible questions he might be asked. As part of the exercise, he’d write down both questions and answers in long hand. He would eventually transfer those Q&A’s from the yellow legal pad to index cards and memorize them in random order.
I was recently talking with a friend, and he began to draw a parallel between a mutual acquaintance of ours and my childhood. The person in question is a real survivor and currently managing a rather chaotic existence. He said it reminded him of me and the untraditional life of my youth.
While there are similarities, I suggested there was a significant distinction between the two. Unlike this friend of ours who appears content with his troubled lot, I managed to survive abandonment and loneliness because of one main thing: I lived in a constant state of hope, always praying and dreaming that I might someday, someway, trade chaos for order and an unconventional family life for a traditional home.