One of my biggest passions is fatherhood. I love being a father. I spend at least three days a week in jails and rehab centers teaching fatherhood courses. People ask me my advice on parenting and fatherhood all the time, and it is a big part of what I do.
Lots of times, this blog will cover parenting/fatherhood topics. I guess they tell you to write what you know, so that's what I do. I spend a great deal of time talking about things I've learned, trying to shape and guide with advice and all that. It would be easy to think, after reading all this, that I'm a perfect dad.
I'm not.
Fatherhood is more error than victory, and there are plenty of mistakes I've made as a dad. However, there is one that stands out more than others.
I'm just going to be gut-level honest with everyone. I would say that in my forty-two years as a human being, this was my worst failure, one that to this day I have trouble forgiving myself for.
In 2004, my wife and I were blessed with our son Jacob. He had a heart defect that was 100% fatal without surgery (it was called Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome, or HLHS). He was born September 5, and he was going to have major surgery within a few days of his birth.
His temperature kept spiking every time they were going to operate, so his surgery was delayed several times. I was a youth minister at the time, and our son was at Vanderbilt hospital forty minutes away from where we lived. He was born on a Saturday. We stayed with him in the NICU on and off, because we had two little girls as well to care for and tried to keep things as normal for them as possible.
It kills me to write this. Looking back, I wish I would have done things differently.
The next week, when he was eight days old, on Monday, I had been out of the office pretty much the entire time. I went to work. All day. I didn't go to the hospital that day.
My son was in the NICU fighting for his life and I went to the office because I thought that's where I should be.
I didn't think he was going to die. I thought that he would do well with his surgery and we would have him for a good long while. I couldn't see it any other way. So, that day, I went to work thinking that what I was doing that day was so very important.
Jacob died two days later.
He only lived ten days, and I missed one of them. 10% of his life.
See, I thought we would have him for longer. I thought he would live many years. I thought that he would grow up and go to school and play sports and graduate school and get married and have kids and the whole nine yards. When he needed his family- when he needed his dad the most- I wasn't there.
When he needed me the MOST- I wasn't there.
Maybe it was my view of work being so important. Maybe it was a sensitivity to the criticism that so many people have of ministers "not having a real job" and "only working thirty minutes on a Sunday."(yes, we hear that all the time) and feeling like I had to counteract that stereotype. Maybe it was an over-inflated sense of how important I was. Whatever the cause, whatever the reason, it was the wrong one.
Somebody once said that we prefer clocks to hourglasses because a clock just spins around and around, giving the illusion that time is infinite. If we could actually see grains of sand disappearing, showing that our time is limited, we would live much differently. I think that is very true. I know that had I known Jacob was going to die that Wednesday, I would have been in his room the entire day on Monday instead of sitting at a desk in an office forty minutes away.
I know that God has forgiven me, but I just can't seem to forgive myself. What I wouldn't give to have that day back. I would live it much, much differently.
But I can't get that day back. Like a grain of sand in an hourglass, it's gone forever. The only thing I can do is from this point forward, learn the lesson and be intentional about spending these days as well as I possibly can, doing what is important and right, regardless of what everyone else would say.
For all of you parents who haven't gotten it right, you're not alone.
For all of you parents who have made mistakes, maybe MAJOR mistakes, and are struggling to forgive yourselves for them, you're not alone.
For all of you parents who wish you could go back and relive a day or week or month or year of your life and do things differently, you're not alone.
I'm right there with all of you.
Sometimes the weight of that failure is enough to make me want to quit. Many times as I go to teach fatherhood or write about parenthood, I feel like a hypocrite. "Who are you to write about being a father?" I ask myself as the episode of Monday, September 13, 2004 comes flooding back. I know many of you feel the same way. The guilt of past failures has the ability to paralyze any future action that we need to take.
All I can do is point you to the words of Lamentations 3:23-24, "Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His mercies never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness."
Because of His love, we are not consumed by our failures. Because of His love, our failures are not final. Because of His love we can pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and put one foot in front of the other in spite of our past failures. There is hope and peace ahead, thanks to the goodness of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. I'm here as a living testimony to that goodness and forgiveness, as I have experienced it personally.
It's difficult to write this blog. I don't really know why I'm writing it right now. Maybe it's because there are folks out there who need it. Maybe it's a lame attempt to assuage guilt within me. Maybe it's the Holy Spirit of God telling me to be authentic and share struggles with the folks who read this. Whatever the reason is, I hope you can find some encouragement today. No one is perfect. No one has it all together. No one has all the answers.
But everyone can have hope and a future. We aren't bound by our past mistakes, thanks to the limitless grace and love of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
I ask you to do what I am trying my hardest to do- learn how to forgive yourself. Sometimes I think the hardest person to forgive is ourselves. And if any of you figure out how to do it, I'd appreciate you sharing it with me.
God bless all of you.
Lots of times, this blog will cover parenting/fatherhood topics. I guess they tell you to write what you know, so that's what I do. I spend a great deal of time talking about things I've learned, trying to shape and guide with advice and all that. It would be easy to think, after reading all this, that I'm a perfect dad.
I'm not.
Fatherhood is more error than victory, and there are plenty of mistakes I've made as a dad. However, there is one that stands out more than others.
I'm just going to be gut-level honest with everyone. I would say that in my forty-two years as a human being, this was my worst failure, one that to this day I have trouble forgiving myself for.
In 2004, my wife and I were blessed with our son Jacob. He had a heart defect that was 100% fatal without surgery (it was called Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome, or HLHS). He was born September 5, and he was going to have major surgery within a few days of his birth.
His temperature kept spiking every time they were going to operate, so his surgery was delayed several times. I was a youth minister at the time, and our son was at Vanderbilt hospital forty minutes away from where we lived. He was born on a Saturday. We stayed with him in the NICU on and off, because we had two little girls as well to care for and tried to keep things as normal for them as possible.
It kills me to write this. Looking back, I wish I would have done things differently.
The next week, when he was eight days old, on Monday, I had been out of the office pretty much the entire time. I went to work. All day. I didn't go to the hospital that day.
My son was in the NICU fighting for his life and I went to the office because I thought that's where I should be.
I didn't think he was going to die. I thought that he would do well with his surgery and we would have him for a good long while. I couldn't see it any other way. So, that day, I went to work thinking that what I was doing that day was so very important.
Jacob died two days later.
He only lived ten days, and I missed one of them. 10% of his life.
See, I thought we would have him for longer. I thought he would live many years. I thought that he would grow up and go to school and play sports and graduate school and get married and have kids and the whole nine yards. When he needed his family- when he needed his dad the most- I wasn't there.
When he needed me the MOST- I wasn't there.
Maybe it was my view of work being so important. Maybe it was a sensitivity to the criticism that so many people have of ministers "not having a real job" and "only working thirty minutes on a Sunday."(yes, we hear that all the time) and feeling like I had to counteract that stereotype. Maybe it was an over-inflated sense of how important I was. Whatever the cause, whatever the reason, it was the wrong one.
Somebody once said that we prefer clocks to hourglasses because a clock just spins around and around, giving the illusion that time is infinite. If we could actually see grains of sand disappearing, showing that our time is limited, we would live much differently. I think that is very true. I know that had I known Jacob was going to die that Wednesday, I would have been in his room the entire day on Monday instead of sitting at a desk in an office forty minutes away.
I know that God has forgiven me, but I just can't seem to forgive myself. What I wouldn't give to have that day back. I would live it much, much differently.
But I can't get that day back. Like a grain of sand in an hourglass, it's gone forever. The only thing I can do is from this point forward, learn the lesson and be intentional about spending these days as well as I possibly can, doing what is important and right, regardless of what everyone else would say.
For all of you parents who haven't gotten it right, you're not alone.
For all of you parents who have made mistakes, maybe MAJOR mistakes, and are struggling to forgive yourselves for them, you're not alone.
For all of you parents who wish you could go back and relive a day or week or month or year of your life and do things differently, you're not alone.
I'm right there with all of you.
Sometimes the weight of that failure is enough to make me want to quit. Many times as I go to teach fatherhood or write about parenthood, I feel like a hypocrite. "Who are you to write about being a father?" I ask myself as the episode of Monday, September 13, 2004 comes flooding back. I know many of you feel the same way. The guilt of past failures has the ability to paralyze any future action that we need to take.
All I can do is point you to the words of Lamentations 3:23-24, "Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His mercies never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness."
Because of His love, we are not consumed by our failures. Because of His love, our failures are not final. Because of His love we can pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and put one foot in front of the other in spite of our past failures. There is hope and peace ahead, thanks to the goodness of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. I'm here as a living testimony to that goodness and forgiveness, as I have experienced it personally.
It's difficult to write this blog. I don't really know why I'm writing it right now. Maybe it's because there are folks out there who need it. Maybe it's a lame attempt to assuage guilt within me. Maybe it's the Holy Spirit of God telling me to be authentic and share struggles with the folks who read this. Whatever the reason is, I hope you can find some encouragement today. No one is perfect. No one has it all together. No one has all the answers.
But everyone can have hope and a future. We aren't bound by our past mistakes, thanks to the limitless grace and love of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
I ask you to do what I am trying my hardest to do- learn how to forgive yourself. Sometimes I think the hardest person to forgive is ourselves. And if any of you figure out how to do it, I'd appreciate you sharing it with me.
God bless all of you.
Hi Dave it's me Simon Peter Kaleem from Pakistan, I read all the blog your wrote and I remember when you shared your story with me in Nepal. I can't for get your answer to my question when I ask how many kids do you have and you told me you have 4. and at the same time you so beautifully explained about Jacob. It really touched my heart and I will never ever forget about that. You are really a role model and I am proud of you as my friend as a brother in Christ. Love you.
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