Out of Love for My Father

With Father’s Day being this past Sunday, I’m still in celebration mode for you dads! I love that we have this day every year to focus on telling you how grateful we are for you. 

This leads me to share a funny story from this past week since it celebrates my dad in a unique way. 

I was going through some old files and came across a flimsy piece of notebook paper that’s now worn, tattered and faded. And on it I immediately recognized my handwriting from back when I was about 12 or 13 years old. But this, in and of itself, isn’t the reason I’m sharing this story with you. 

This piece of paper is significant because it’s actually a poem I wrote as a young girl about my dad. And I have literally remembered the first stanza all these years! I can’t believe this sacred piece of memorabilia somehow miraculously emerged from the archives.

I can still picture where I was standing when I wrote these words.

I was positioned next to the ironing board in our basement as the steam from the iron was shooting up onto my face, adding to my irritation at the job I was tasked to do. I was sweating bullets on that hot summer day and was not happy about any of it. It was then that this hilarious expose emerged from within me. 

Somehow it helped to decrease my misery by putting my feelings and thoughts to paper!

That said, I share this with you today as a reminder, dads, that we as your daughters may not always enjoy following your directives or investing in the tasks required to keep our households running, but in the end we do what we do out of love for you. So I’m sharing my poem with you to encourage you in your fathering role and to remind you how much you’re loved, even when we don’t always respond in the best of ways and push back or complain.

The title of my poem is: Out of Love for My Father.

It’s dumb to iron hankies,
especially on hot days.
Then you stick it in your pocket
and it’s wrinkled anyways!
…even though it is a bother, I do it out of love for my father!

I don’t like to fold your t-shirts
‘cause I always do it wrong.
I fold them every which way
and I stretch them tall and long!
…even though it is a bother, I do it out of love for my father!

I hate to practice my piano
on each school day,
but I know that it’s my duty
to keep quiet and obey!
…even though it is a bother, I do it out of love for my father!

Sometimes I feel it’s unfair
the age you say that I’m to date,
but in your mind it’s very clear,
in mine, it’s a debate!
…even though it is a bother, I do it out of love for my father!

I get tired when running errands
to the store or to the mart,
but I need this to develop
what we call a “servant’s heart.”
…even though it is a bother, I do it out of love for my father!

So there it is: the simple thoughts of an adolescent daughter who had a bad attitude on a random summer day, yet in the end, she loved her dad. 

Thanks for walking with me down memory lane today! I trust my poem brought a smile to your face.

Finding Hope When You Just Want Father’s Day to Be Over

If this blog title intrigues you, it may be because Father’s Day is one of the hardest days of the year for you. According to research that was commissioned by the National Center for Fathering in cooperation with Gallup polling, the majority of Americans are right there with you. In fact, over half of them agreed with this statement:

“Most adults have unresolved issues with their fathers."

I want to be a catalyst in facilitating healing for those with unresolved father issues so we can be healthier people regardless of the hand we were dealt.

As I’ve pondered what some of your histories could be that make today extra hard, here are some examples that come to mind. Maybe your story has played out in some way like this:

• Your father wasn’t in the picture much—or at all—and like the approximately 18.3 million fatherless kids in America, this day reminds you of what you didn’t (or still don’t) have.

• Your dad preferred one of your siblings over you, and the result of that favoritism is that you’ve lacked confidence your whole life, never believing you measure up no matter how hard you try.

• Your parents divorced and you felt caught in the middle, feeling the pull to ally with your mom because you believed she needed you more… but now you realize what you didn’t get and you’re angry that you lost time with your dad that you’ll never get back.

• Your dad remarried after the divorce and chose his new family over you, leaving a hole in your heart that has never really healed no matter how much therapy you’ve done.

• Your father was there but not there. He provided for you and came home after work but didn’t really tune into you or communicate that you had value to him.

• Your dad has had his own unhealed issues with his father, and though he did the best he could, you keep coming back to the fact that there have been significant deficits in your relationship as a result of his lack of pursuing a closer relationship with you.

• You’re a dad yourself and when your kids were born you purposed to be the dad you never had, but your personal choices—i.e. an addiction, affair, career, hobbies, or even ministry—came before them and now you’re reaping the painful consequences of those decisions.

• You know God is a loving and good Father, but struggle to really believe it because your earthly father didn’t model those qualities to you.

• Your dad has died and you loved him more than your words can convey, and as you see everyone else celebrating their fathers today, your heart aches because you didn’t have enough time with yours.

As discouraging as these examples may be, I share them to validate the wounds that many of you are carrying, wounds that are often unseen and unacknowledged, wounds that are extra tender on this holiday.

Yet let’s not stay there.

Let’s be people who pursue healing and wholeness so we don’t pass the unhealed pain of our past on to the next generation.

As a way to counter heaviness you may be feeling today, I want to share a powerful truth I’ve learned about HOPE.

A couple of years ago I was preparing to speak at a national conference on hope-filled fathering and I was reading studies on the impact of hope in motivating us to action. I was also conducting my own qualitative research on how dads gain or lose hope based on their current relationships with their daughters. 

One night I got a download for a way to understand HOPE in a fresh way. Here’s the acrostic that made the concept of HOPE come alive for me:

H—Heavenward

O—Orientation

P—Powers

E—Everything

What this means to me is that even when there’s been relational pain (directed horizontally from human to human), we can find hope by looking through a different lens, a heavenward one (a vertically-directed position). This orientation to connect with our Heavenly Father is the pathway for healing even if our earthly relationships with our dads are still broken.

If Father's Day is really hard for you, rest assured that you’re not alone and there are others who are struggling in similar ways. You can take comfort in knowing that another Father is watching over you, a Dad who has written your name on the palm of His hand (Isaiah 49:16). 

I want to leave you with one of my favorite verses. I pray this fills you with HOPE today so that no matter where you’re at on this Father’s Day, you’ll be uplifted and encouraged:

May the God of HOPE fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him (this is the key to a heavenward orientation) so you may overflow with HOPE by the power of the Holy Spirit. 
(Romans 15:13)

[You may have read a blog I wrote titled, “How to Survive Father’s Day When You Hate the Day,” but if not, I encourage you to read it here. In it I share a four-step process called HEAL to begin working through your father wounds towards healing and breakthrough. Be encouraged that it’s possible to move to forgiveness, then release and freedom. 

And if you need extra support, I offer online coaching and would be happy to walk alongside you on your healing journey.]

Fathering Through My Own Wounds: Lessons I’ve Learned as a GirlDad (Guest Blog by Tony Miltenberger)

Being a dad is full of surprises, but being a GirlDad has taught me lessons I never expected.

With Shiloh, my youngest who is now 13, every day feels alive with energy, questions, and challenges. I want to guide her, make things easier, and help her avoid frustration. But one of the hardest lessons I’ve learned, and one I explore in Wisdom in the Wound, is that sometimes the most important thing I can do is step back, especially when my own wounds get in the way.

Shiloh recently decided to try running track. If you’ve never been to a track meet, you’ll quickly learn it’s a lot of waiting for a very brief reward. For her, it was frustrating, she was slower than the other kids, and she felt it deeply. She stomped, complained, and struggled with impatience. And I understood completely, she got her speed from me.

Here’s where it got tricky.

My instinct was to coach her, push her, and help her fix what I saw as “correctable.” But it wasn’t just about track. My wound, this deep desire to be seen, to be right, to feel like I was helping, was bubbling up. I wanted to be acknowledged for being a good dad, for knowing what she needed.

And every complaint from Shiloh, every moment of frustration, felt like a reflection on me. Her struggle bumped up against my own need for validation, and I could feel my patience shrinking.

Shiloh didn’t want to put in the work I knew would help. She wanted results without the effort, and my first reaction was to fix it for her, to make her see things my way. But stepping in that way would have been about me, not her. I realized that my need to be seen and “do it right” was actually blocking the most important thing I could offer: my presence.

So, I paused. I had to let her experience the frustration herself. My role wasn’t to control the outcome or prove I knew better; it was to cheer her on, listen, and quietly hold space for her to learn. To trust that she could handle the challenge, even if it was slow, messy, and imperfect.

Being a GirlDad has taught me that love isn’t measured by how much I can control the outcome. It’s measured by how well I can show up, recognize my own impulses, and let her grow through the challenge.

My wounds can cloud my judgment, but when I notice them and step back, they can guide me toward wisdom, presence, and patience.

Watching Shiloh navigate track, slow, frustrated, but trying, reminds me that my job isn’t to make life easy for her. It’s to make sure she knows she’s capable, supported, and loved, even when she doesn’t do things the way I would.

Fathering isn’t about perfection. It’s about showing up, being honest with yourself, and choosing presence over control.

Every day with Shiloh is a lesson in humility, patience, and trust. My wound to be seen will always be there, but when I steward it well, it allows me to be the dad she actually needs. I’m grateful I get to walk alongside her, not as someone who fixes everything, but as someone who trusts her to do the work herself and loves her fiercely while she does it.

Tony Miltenberger is the founder of Follow2Lead Coaching. He is a veteran, podcast host, executive coach, author, and the associate pastor of disciple making at Centerville Grace Church. Throughout the years, Tony has traveled the globe, taking deployments in Kuwait, El Salvador, and numerous marriage retreats throughout the US. He has consulted with churches in the deep south and multi-million dollar organizations in the Midwest. His proudest accomplishment is being the father to three amazing kids and being married to his high school sweetheart (Karen) for over 20 years.

If you want to hear more from Tony, you’ll love his new book, Wisdom in the Wound: How God Uses Your Past to Shape Who You’re Becoming.