My shoes were shined, my tux was pressed and my toast was written. By all practical accounts, I was ready to be father of the bride this spring. But no checklist could prepare me for the powerful emotion that accompanied my firstborn’s wedding.
When Jennifer approached me that morning, she looked radiant. She was fully assembled, but suddenly she came undone; the reality of the occasion hit her and tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Jen, breathe,” I told her. “Breathe real deep.” I tried to usher her through the weepiness so we could make it down the aisle.
Soon the trumpets blared, cueing our walk to the altar. I was struck by one conviction — how right it all was. Ever since Jennifer, 33, could walk and talk she had anticipated this day — at times impatiently. And I knew in my heart that everything had come together after all these years just as it was supposed to. My joy was sealed in peace of mind. Tears welled up in my smiling eyes.
When I handed Jen to her groom, I had a profound sense that I was gaining a son, not losing a daughter.
My daughter’s milestone triggered a flashback sequence in the lens of my heart — a blur of band-aids and braces and badges. Hiccups and hugs. Trials and triumphs. How fast it all had gone.
I highlighted some special memories of Jen in my toast at the reception. I was serving as a naval officer in Vietnam when she was born. Amidst bombs and missiles, the news reached me — a blast of ecstasy unlike any happiness I had ever experienced.
Fatherhood has been the most rewarding adventure I ever undertook. It has altered my wiring. As a knuckle-headed boy in a rough-and-tumble neighborhood, accidents aroused minimal concern. “How many stitches did ya get?” we’d ask flippantly. I was surprised to learn how deeply a dad could feel when his children suffered pain.
That’s one reason fatherhood has deepened my faith: I gained a better grasp of God’s paternal nature, His infinite heart, His limitless mercy.
Watching children grow up is an ongoing miracle. They’re breathing! They’re rolling over! They’re talking! They’re throwing balls and sprouting freckles and doing long division and playing trombones! Awe and wonder. Glory to God.
Society’s perception of fatherhood has changed significantly during the three decades between my daughter’s birth and wedding. Americans’ expectations for fathers and their responsibilities have diminished dramatically — and we’re paying a huge price for it. Research consistently shows that many people are suffering spiritually, intellectually, psychologically, economically and physically because their dads weren’t involved in the responsibility inherent in fathering. It’s a problem in ghettos and suburbs alike. Dads deserve greater support and greater demands.
In some ways, my role as father of a family resembles my role as CEO of Relevant Radio, the largest Catholic talk radio network in the country. The accountability I have to the people in both groups for the things I say and do is absolute. If you’re going to excel in either role, you have to be honest about your strengths and weaknesses. Neither my kids nor my employees expect perfection. But they do expect authenticity. A good leader walks the talk.
And a good leader leans on God. The more awesome the responsibility — and there is no responsibility more awesome than parenting — the greater the need to rely on God. An active prayer life recharges a dad’s batteries, day in and day out.
Once I had toasted Jen at her wedding reception, it was time for our father-daughter dance. Stevie Wonder’s up-tempo song “You are the Sunshine of my Life” conveyed my thoughts and sentiments.
Looking back on my role as father of the bride this Father’s Day, it strikes me as a summation of a dad’s mission. We remind our children to breathe. We lead them into the Church. We toast to their talents. And we dance in their sunshine.
© Copyright 2006 Catholic Exchange
Dick Lyles and his wife Martha live in Green Bay, Wisconsin, where he serves as CEO of Relevant Radio.
