Bittersweet.  That’s how I feel about Father’s Day.

It’s bitter because my four little girls are all grown up and living their own lives.  Yes, I know, that’s how it’s supposed to be.  But I still miss all the magical and marvelous times with them as little girls; playing fairy tale theatre, singing lullabies and saying prayers when tucking them in bed, holding their little hands as they learned to walk, holding them in my arms as they cried from a fall or a broken heart, seeing them in their precious little girl dresses, listening to them share about their day at school . . How I miss those days.

It’s bitter because hard as I try not to, I still have regrets.  I regret spending more time at work than I should have. (Here it’s a challenge to not feel resentful toward the “church” for selling me on the idea that the most important thing I could do was “serve God” as a pastor.)  I regret not being at home every night for bedtime song and prayers.  I regret that I placed more of a priority on the things that needed to get done than I did on taking the time to gently place each of them on my lap every evening and just sit with them, holding them, cuddling them, embracing them and covering them with love.  I regret that I was sometimes too much of a father—and not enough of a dad.

It’s bitter because I fully realize all of the things I did wrong in my parenting.  I wish I would’ve been less concerned about “raising them right” , following rules, or making sure that they were religious, and instead poured out and into them more grace, freedom, and fun.  Living in a one income home and the lack of a sufficient salary as a pastor severely limited my ability to lavish upon them the clothes and accoutrements, the adventures and experiences and all of the “extras” that would’ve made them feel extras special.

It’s bitter because I realize just how fast that time went, and how much of it I wasted on the things that didn’t matter–far too many to list. I wish I could have a “do-over.” 

It is bitter to think about the devastating effects of divorce and how it robbed them of the solace, safety, and security that comes from having two parents together, and how it stole the financial, emotional, and psychological stability that is so essential to children of all ages.  I can’t dwell on this part for long as it is it leads to bitterness and resentment.

And so, I choose to spend time reflecting on how sweet it is to be the father to four little girls who are now all grown up.

It was sweet to be part of the miracle of birth.  I remember clearly each of them making their grand and glorious entrance into this world.  I remember what a miracle I thought it was then—and still do—that God could create such a perfect little person literally from nothing.  The feeling of cradling my own child in the crook of my arm, rocking her to sleep, feeding her a bottle, and yes, even changing her pants was glorious!

It is sweet to recall the moments which meant so much, but passed by too fast.  The birthday parties, Christmas holidays filled with pageants and presents, Easter dresses and egg hunts, vacation excursions which for years involved the long road trip back to Wisconsin.  But sweeter still were the little moments that were fleeting, whether that be Friday night pizza and movies, or an occasional 29 cent ice cream cone at McDonalds. 

It is sweet to think about how they went from toddlers, to going to school (I hated those first days), to graduating and beginning to make their way in the world.  It is sweet to think of doing my best to be there for them when they experienced the hardships and heartaches of growing up and facing the harsh realities that the world has to offer.

It is sweet to think of how uniquely different each of them are.  It is amazing to me that four girls, all raised in the same home and very similar environments, could be so incredibly different.  I love thinking about their individual personalities. 

It is sweet to know that even though they are all grown up, I still have a close relationship with each of them.  It is sweet to think of how well they have done in their lives and in their loves.  It is sweet to spend time with the grandchildren that they have gifted me with.  It is sweet to know that even though they have their own lives, I am still in some sense a part of their lives.  And perhaps sweetest of all is to know that they will always be an integral part of mine.

It is sweet to know that even though my role as a father has changed, there is one thing that has remained the same; my immense love for them.  That will never change–and is sweetest of all.