Family
I’m a father. Sort of. Kind of.
Not really.
I entered into fatherhood the day I said “I do.” Not “I do” want to become a father so let’s have a baby. When I said “I do” to my wife. She brought her child into our marriage. I had been in their life for five years but until then, at the end of the day, I went to my home, they went to theirs.
I've never fully felt comfortable receiving the “Happy Father’s Day” greeting. Heck, a lot of times I never even understood what my role was. Certainly, the biological deadbeat who did several stints in prison did not deserve a “Happy Father’s Day.” However, in some respects, being honored as a “father” feels like the ball player who lands on a championship team thanks to a trade near the end of the season. Yes, he helped out but he wasn’t there on opening day.
I was not there with cigars in hand welcoming my newborn into the world. I had no role in naming the child. I did not deal with the terrible two’s. I did not endure the 2 a.m. wake-up call. Then the 4 a.m. diaper change. And finally the 6 a.m. scream for food. Night after night for six months all the while trying to stay awake at my work desk to earn money and bring home food to wife and baby.
I did none of that.
I did not experience the pain of letting go on that first day of kindergarten or emotionally decide what toys and adorable stuffed animals to keep and which ones to let go. Temper tantrums were lost on me – I never dealt with them. In fact, I find them hysterical when watching my nephew pound his fists like a cartoon child especially when he turns and grins at me secretly. But I do see the exhaustion in my brother and sister-in-law.
Nope. I didn’t suffer through a two-week long losing streak, team infighting and a manager on the ropes all over the front page. Then ride the win streak, the camaraderie and the sudden exuberation that maybe, just maybe this team can slip into the playoffs and ride the momentum to a championship. Sure, I hit a couple of home runs and a key catch here and there. I’ve got the ring and everybody calls me champ.
Just like some call me father.
I’ve been told the role of the stepfather is, in some ways, harder than a father. I’ve read the book Beyond Belief by Josh Hamilton, the former Texas Ranger and California Angel. (The Angels will never be Los Angeles to me) It’s a fantastic read and moved me to write Mr. Hamilton a letter. I didn’t ask about his well-known addiction problems, instead I asked him about being a stepfather. Nobody ever asks him about his role as a stepfather. They always ask him about drugs.
I don’t know if, indeed the role of stepfather is harder than a father because I’ve never been a father. I can tell you blended families are complicated. My wife’s son does not call me dad or father (we tried it at the beginning but it just didn’t stick) however he generally refers to me as his dad to others. Probably easier than saying, “My mom’s husband.” However, we don’t exactly have a father-son relationship. He took some of his growing pains, more than likely a result of not having his father in his life, out on me the rest his mother bore. He doesn’t send Father’s Day cards but he doesn’t send cards on Mother’s Day either. But he calls me. More out of obligation, I wonder, as he said once “I’m just crossing you off the list.” Hmmm. OK.
That doesn’t rank quite as high as the time he said he didn’t need me anymore since he was going to reach out to his real father and establish a relationship with him. Even though that worked out exactly as I predicted (in my head) perhaps it helps explain my comfort level of receiving the annual good wishes.
Regardless, when I fail as a father I feel like I failed him and I question God’s wisdom of putting someone so unqualified to be a dad into someone’s life who desperately needs a qualified father. Am I the reason for all his unhappiness?
Most people don’t ask me how fatherhood is going. I do sometimes get a “Happy Father’s Day” from people, which I shy away from. My own dad once told me “You’re not a father” when I suggested we celebrate Father’s Day together. More reinforcement I suppose that I don’t deserve a “fathers” day. As I told Mr. Hamilton in my letter to him, only one friend of mine, who is not an overly close friend, has ever asked me in all my years of marriage, how fatherhood is going.
Considering the epidemic of fatherless homes in America today, I believe I can say – a stepfather is in a unique position that a biological father can never feel. Happy Father’s Day to Dad is truly about appreciating dad for being dad. Living this role now for well more than a decade I don’t think “Happy Father’s Day” to the stepdad is so much about the stepdad. It’s for the child who doesn’t have a dad to say “Happy Father’s Day” to. Unless, it’s more about getting through a list of chores.
Oh, someone did remind me once that Jesus had a stepfather.
Happy Father’s Day to the father in your life.
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