Rarely do I get to go to all of my boys’ basketball games, because I’m usually helping my students at Saturday tutorials. School was closed today though, so I already knew where I was going to be. But as I snapped lots of pics and saw lots of people, something else kept resonating in my heart…how happy I was with my husband.
I read lots of stories about deadbeat dads. I realize they exist. But there are deadbeat parents, too. I don’t even know if it’s so much a gender thing as it is a heart thing. So this post is not to blast others, but to uplift my husband – and the many other unsung fathers like him.
Michael is making memories for my kids that I cherish, probably more than they do. We fuss and we fight, like every couple does, but he’s still the one who flips my boys upside down and carries all three of them at once when wrestling is their hobby of choice. Mommy can’t do that…although I did make a futile attempt.
He’s the one who puts his ear on my baby’s chest at night to see if he’s wheezing, informing me that he may have to take him to the emergency room to make sure that he can breathe through the night. He irons their clothes on Sunday, because my ironing skills don’t quite make the cut (ha ha). He coaches and plays basketball with them, in between his work schedule and school schedule and church schedule and wife schedule and home schedule. He makes a few inspired daddy meals – which are very, um…creative…but edible! And I commend his every effort!
I’m happy because he looks out for me. He’s my bodyguard. He listens to my heart, too. He asks me what I need. He offers what he can, and if he messes up – he says, I’m sorry… and tries to make it better again. He rubs my heart when it’s broken. He holds my hand when I’m scared. He’s my cheerleader, even though he’s the coach. And most of all – his heart is in the hand of the King…I love that he loves God the most.
As a teacher at a school where most students are “socio-economically challenged/at risk”, my heart bleeds everyday at the damage inflicted on children because of broken hearts and broken homes. I do wish that more dads were there…and more moms, too. Because the ones who hurt the most are the kids. I am blessed to have Michael in my life. Despite their best efforts, our dads were not able to provide everything we needed. We agreed that our family would be different. Four difficult pregnancies and three boys later, he’s still holding up his end of the deal. And he holds me up, too.
I’m so glad he’s on my team. Let’s give less time to talk about deadbeat dads. Let’s spend more time thanking the dads that are alive and well. Share this with a dad you know and tell them I said “thanks for what you do”… #hemakesthedifference