I am a boy dad. I thank the Lord for the gift he has given me in my son, Wyatt. The gift that sees that a boys energy and curiosity is normal; The gift that allows me to say that yes, boys are different than girls.

Photo by Yuval Levy on Unsplash

Two years into our marriage, Tabitha and I were driving up Palomar Mountain. I wanted to show her where my Grandpa Ayers used to take my brother and I camping. As we wound our way up the mountain, Tabitha started to feel sick. I wrote it off as car sickness at the time. Elevation + switchback roads = car sickness for some. What I didn’t know, is that on that trip to visit my parents in Southern California, Tabitha was pregnant. I was going to be a dad.

Parenting Wyatt has forced me to wrestle with many things in my life.

My Past

My upbringing of growing up in a home where my dad was home 2 days and then gone 2-3 days. I just wanted him home. I wanted his presence. I wanted him without the zombie schedule truck driving demanded.

I am thankful that God brought other men into my life to fill this need. Men like my Grandpa Ayers. He stepped in, for my brother and I, and showed us what it meant to be men. Whether he was reading us Bible stories or telling tales around the campfire; Whether we were hiking with slingshots, flying RC planes, or playing Chess. Grandpa was that escape, for us, from the feminine world of my mom.

I realize now that both my parents did their best… and I’m thankful for the time I had with my Grandpa.

Who I Am As A Husband

There are many stories that I could write here. But the clearest one that comes to mind is of me sitting on the couch, watching TV, while Tabitha is getting herself and Wyatt out the door for the day. Tab was teaching at the time. Wyatt would spend his days with my mother-in-law. I didn’t do a thing, as I watched The Today Show, to help Tab out the door. We were supposed to be a team, and I was failing.

God knew what I needed. Looking back, I am thankful for us having issues with breast feeding. Thankful for the formula, which I once thought was expensive, that allowed me to take on late night feedings. I miss those times of bleary-eyed snuggling. Him watching me, with those blue eyes, in the darkened living room.

Being a dad has forced me to find maturity as a husband. Praise God.

Who I Want To Be As A Dad

At the end of the day, I want to be a dad who:

Listens – I wanted to be able to talk about whatever Wyatt is into, even if that means talking about Pok├ęmon like a scholar.

Plays – Having a family game night, playing through a video game co-op, I want to play with my son.

Reads – Whether reading the Bible or work of fiction, I want my son to hear my voice/see that men read aloud. I miss hearing my Grandpa Ayers read Bible stories.

Prepares – I want to have those difficult conversations. I want to be a dad who talks about puberty, sex, and dating.

Photo by Enea Rezhda on Unsplash

I am a boy dad. I am thankful for my son.

However, I’d be happy being a girl dad too. ­čÖé

Fatherhood has taught me forgiveness


The whole concept of a dad can be challenging for some men. Many have grown up without having a dad in their life. Some of us even had dads that had to work outside of the home, for days on end, to support the family. Anger, resentment, and even a quest to fill that dad-shaped hole can occur.

I am thankful for the men that God brought into my life, as my dad was out working to provide for our family.

I am thankful for my Grandpa Ayers. For him sharing his love for the outdoors, radio controlled everything, and tabletop games. For showing me and my brother that slingshots, knives, and guns are cool toys (when properly respected) to play with. I’ll never forget our late nights playing Chess OR my Grandpa letting my brother and I build our own fires (FIRE!). His unexpected death at 60 years of age still haunts me in some ways. I have found that grief is ever changing but forever there. I am thankful for the time he invested in my siblings and I; thankful for the time that I got to spend with him.

Photo by Jordan Sanchez on Unsplash

For the longest time, I retreated into negative emotions concerning my own dad. Unable to see the bigger picture of what it means to provide… unable (still unable) to see through the family fog-of-war of the example his dad left him with when it came to interacting with family. For years, even as an adult, I’ve wanted more from my dad… But I’ve learned that whatever it is I have wanted from him, I have built into my relationship with Wyatt. Letting the past go, letting anger go, has allowed me to see my dad for who he is instead of who I wanted him to be.

My dad, Steven, is an amazing guy. He is funny, insightful, and a hard worker. The older I get, the more I appreciate him AND realize how much I am like him. I wish I had been able to push past what is deemed, in Christian circles, as a “father wound” sooner. Arriving at a point where I can accept my dad for who he is is priceless. Being able to see the bigger picture, where other men were allowed to step in and teach me and my siblings, and not resent that, is liberating.

All of the above to say, Father’s Day is this weekend. Chuck Lawless reposted a piece this morning that resonated with me titled “8 Reflections on Being Childless and Celebrating Father’s Day“. I encourage you to check it out.

These greeting card holidays can stir the emotions!

Happy early Father’s Day.



Growing up, my Dad was a truck driver. This meant that he would be gone for days at a time, come home and sleep, and then eventually hit the road again. I remember how frustrating this was as a kid. When my Dad was gone we lived by my Mom’s rules, which tended to be more relaxed; when my Dad came home, the rules of home life shifted. With my Dad gone, the void of a father figure in my life went largely unfilled. Sure, there were friend’s dads who sometimes took up this mantle but for the most part, my Dad was┬ánonexistent. Looking back now, I can understand that he did what he had to do to support our family. His hard work allowed my Mom to stay home with us kids. I thank him for that. In the thick of growing up though, deep down, I resented his absence.

Thankfully, God knew what I needed, and He provided that for me and my brother in the form of my Grandpa Ayers.

As I get older, nostalgia and time make my Grandpa Ayers larger than life in my mind. The man could do no wrong. During my awkward years of junior high, Grandpa Ayers would drive down from Orange County in his motor home, pick my brother and I up, and head to the local mountains. Away from my Mom we would build fires, hike (with sling shots and pellet guns of course), and enjoy Grandpa’s amazing cooking. At night my Grandpa would play chess with us, tell stories, and sometimes pull out his “thunder lamp”.


More than anyone I have ever known, my Grandpa was an expert storyteller. So much so that he began telling you a story when you least realized it. For example, he would plant some thought in your head earlier on in the day and then later that night expound/ act upon it.

I remember one time where he and my Grandma had come over to stay the night at our house. For some reason, the book I was reading was left out on the kitchen counter. That night, my Grandpa must have read parts of that book (about a family mystery in Hawaii) because he later used it in a story he told us late one night in the motor home. I can remember his tone of voice, raspy, telling us about this old man that lived out in the jungle in some lava tubes. Scared me to death!

There was another time/trip where he had shown us some rattle snake eggs he had in the freezer. He was very careful to explain that they had to stay in the freezer, cold, or else the eggs would hatch. This would be a very bad thing… Well of course later on that night or next day, he’d pull out that pouch of rattle snake eggs and scare us to death! He literally had my brother and I bawling our eyes out in fear. So funny to think about now.

Another time he elaborately built this weight system that was rigged up in a┬áraisin┬ábox. The box was kept in a cabinet right next to his bed. Later on that night, somehow, he had run a string from the box and out of the cabinet. As we were laying there going to sleep, he started pulling on the string. We kept asking if he heard the noise. Of course, he said no. Eventually, somehow, it turned out there there were mice in the cabinets…so he said. I think this episode ended with my brother and I in tears once again.

My Grandpa Ayers was a relentless tormentor and my brother and I loved him for it. He expertly knew how to build suspense. I can only imagine how much noise fellow campers heard as my brother and I screamed with laughter.