July 15, 2025
Someone defined fathers as “men who give their daughters away to other men who aren’t nearly good enough so that they can have grandchildren who will be smarter than anyone else’s.”
Dads are special, but often don’t get the attention they need or the credit they deserve. Usually, Mother’s Day overshadows Father’s Day bigtime. U. S. News and World Report, for example, shared Americans were expected to spend $34 billion on Mother’s Day purchases this year, the second highest amount in nearly two decades.
Father’s Day spending will reach $24 billion, a record high, but still short of Mother’s Day expenditures.
Most wise dads understand their place. I heard about one dad who won a gift card in a door prize drawing, and he called his five children together. He asked them to help decide who should get the gift.
“Who is the most obedient?” he asked. “Who never talks back to his mother? Who does everything she says?”
The five children answered in unison, “You do, Dad. You get the prize.”
One wise senior adult celebrating his 50th wedding anniversary was asked the secret to their long marriage. He replied, “I learned a long time ago, you can be right, or you can be happy.”
Most dads understand that the best gift they can give their children is to love their mother. Dads have great intentions, but I admit, some of us are sort of slow sometimes. A husband and wife were attending a marriage seminar dealing with communication, and the instructor asked the husbands, “What is your wife’s favorite flower?”
The well-meaning husband leaned over to his wife, gently stroked her arm, and tenderly asked, “It’s Pillsbury, isn’t it?”
Dads know, also, their children think “love” is spelled “t-i-m-e.” One corporate executive, who said his five-year-old daughter was the most important part of his life, realized he usually went to work before she got up in the morning and often returned home after she was in bed at night. So, to spend time with her, he took her to the office with him one Saturday. After looking around his office, she asked, “Daddy, is this where you live?”
One of the biggest regrets fathers have when their children are grown and gone is not spending enough time with them when they could have. Pastor Robert Schuller once shared that even though he enjoyed golf immensely, he decided to be a failure at golf. He said, “I chose to fail at golf because I wanted to succeed as a father.” He couldn’t give the time to golf necessary to develop his game if he was going to be the father he wanted to be.
That’s one important thing I remember about my father. He was always there for me and my brothers. He was in the backyard playing catch at the end of a long day at work. He was at rec league baseball games even when I usually struck out. He was in the audience at every band concert. He sat in the stands on Friday nights when the band was presenting the halftime show. He was on the pew with us every Sunday. He didn’t send us to church. He took us to church.
My father was at the table for every meal. He was at the sink after every supper, washing dishes. He was by my side on my wedding day as my best man. He was totally devoted to my mother. And he loved the Lord and worked to build a Christian home.
George Herbert said, “One father is better than a hundred school masters.” My father taught me a lot. He taught me to love the Lord, to love the church, and to love my family. He taught me to sing the old hymns with gusto. He taught me to pray publicly. He taught me the importance of being in church Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday evening. He taught me to be honest. He taught me to enjoy people. He taught me a love of baseball. He taught me by setting a good example.
Now I have the privilege of being a father to my grown-up kids. I pray my children will remember their dad was there for them, loved them dearly, and lived a life that taught them right from wrong, pointing them to a solid relationship with the Lord.
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David L. Chancey lives in Fayetteville, Georgia, and serves as Transitional Pastor at Eagles Landing at Griffin, Griffin, Georgia. Check out his other writings at www.davidchancey.com.
