When I was a young father, I was pretty hands-on. Changing diapers. Mending knees. Drying tears. My wife worked part-time opposite my schedule so we could avoid daycare as much as possible. There were nights when I was exhausted, but homework and baths and bedtime prayers were still required. The truly exhausting part was the worry. Worry about finances. Worry about education. Worry about too much television, not enough healthy food. Worry about the friends they had or didn’t have.

Mostly I worried about screwing EVERYTHING up. Unwittingly doing some irreparable harm by not protecting them; preparing them; guiding them. There is something almost primal about a father’s need to love and protect his children – maybe its self-preservation. I don’t know, maybe when the first dad (Adam?) crawled out of the primordial ooze we were already pre-wired to protect our offspring in order to make certain our species would survive.

Lately I’ve been observing young fathers. There was a father at church yesterday who was comforting his baby daughter. This dad has three daughters – so he gets to go straight to heaven. But anyway, yesterday the little fussy one needed daddy to stand up and bounce her around in his arms. Which of course he did. Several times. At one point, I walked over and put my arm around him and reminded him that fatherhood means “doing whatever you think she needs for the rest of your life”.

I’m encouraged by the time and attention that I see young fathers affording their children today. I see dads lugging the diaper bags and pushing the strollers and holding the hands of their progeny. I watch and I recall that often when I was younger it seemed novel that I would be the one doing those things. Maybe in my father’s generation men were still the hunter-gatherers and womenfolk tended the children. But evolution has prevailed and now dads hunt and gather and bounce their babies, hold their hands, wipe up their spills, tie their shoes, and mend broken their hearts.

Sometimes when I see these young dads, I think about Saint Joseph. We know little about Joseph. We know that he had doubts. We also know that he said yes. He protected Mary and Jesus. Joseph is often depicted as an old man. But I believe Joseph was young when Jesus was born. A worker. A teacher. A companion. A Dad. Frightened but courageous. Ill prepared but undaunted. Beleaguered but bouncing Jesus if required to keep him still in the Temple. And I ask his intercession to protect all of us fathers.

My children are in their forties now. And I still worry, but I believe that our history together prepares them; guides them; protects them. “Look at what I did. Look at the mistakes that I made. Be smarter. Do better. And remember, to never stop loving beyond reason.”

Peace,

Denis