Also see Parenting, Fathers and Daddy's Girl.
When I married that wonderful husband of mine,
there were some things I knew from the start.
I knew he was gentle and thoughtful and wise,
I knew that he had a big heart . . .
But I didn't know all the things I know now,
all the tricks that he had up his sleeve.
All the toys he could fix, all the swings he could push,
all the ways he could make make-believe.
Now the more we're together,
the more I can see just what very good fortune I've had . . .
When I married that wonderful husband of mine,
I sure married a wonderful dad!
Many poems have been written to explain,
How a mother's love can soothe the pain.
But little has been said about a Father's concern,
So . . . now . . . I think it must be his turn.
A Father's love for his offspring,
Is just like that of a solid gold ring.
No matter what, it is unending,
Never breaking; though . . . sometimes bending.
His love is as strong as a mother's; although . . .
Due to his personality, it sometimes doesn't show.
There is no question of how strong..
Or of its lasting . . . however long.
So no matter if his child is good or bad,
There is no Love stronger, than that of a Dad.
It's a dad kind of thing to protect you
And see that the world treats you right,
To offer his willing assistance
Any hour of the day or the night.
It's a dad kind of thing to stand by you
If one of your bubbles should burst,
To make sure you know you're important
And know that with him you come first.
To give you his all but still wonder
If there's something more he could do--
It's a dad kind of thing to keep showing
That he'll always be there for you.
(Hazel Fletcher Young)
I love someone dearly.
He's kind as can be;
He makes me so happy;
He's my dad, you see.
He takes me out fishing;
We play ball and swim;
He knows about everything;
I'm so proud of him.
And as I get bigger,
I just want to grow
To be like my daddy,
'Cause I love him so.
What shall you give to one small boy?
A glamorous game, a tinseled toy?
A Boy Scout knife, a puzzle pack?
A train that runs on some cruising track?
A picture book, a real live pet?
No, there's plenty of time for such things yet
Give him a day for his very own.
Just one small boy and his Dad alone.
A walk in the wood, a romp in the park;
A fishing trip from dawn to dark.
Give him the gift that only you can.
The companionship of his "old man."
Games are outgrown and toys decay,
But he'll never forget
If you give him a day!
(2/16/99 by Nicole Marie Dugan--who found her birth father at age 28)
When I was small, he held my hands and had the key to my heart.
Kenneth is his name; he is my father and was from the start.
Nothing can change that now, not time, not death nor fate.
I will always be his daughter and will always bear his name.
But now, I have a second chance, as you have come into my life.
You didn't know about the pregnancy but without you, there would be no me.
Now I have you in my life and want to love you, and you me.
I am excited and thrilled that you are my family, my friend and my second daddy.
I know twenty-eight years have passed and we cannot go back and fill those gaps.
I just hope that the family and friends around us will come to learn and understand, the bond that heredity holds.
I was given the best parents ever--they were sent from the good Lord above. I believe in angels and I know my father in heaven, is giving you the gift that you once gave to him . . .
And that, my dad, is me.
When we were just small children
Our Hero Dad, was you
There was nothing you couldn't fix
Or Find a way to do
You were so strong and perfect
In our young adoring eyes
We knew no other dad could be
So wonderful and wise.
Although we see a lot of things
Much differently these days
You're still our shining hero
In so many special ways
For whenever we're together, Dad
Our adoring eyes again look at you
This man we're very proud of
And we give our love to you
I love my daddy very much
He is so good to me,
There's no one else in all the world
As wonderful as he.
He is so very tall and strong
There's nothing he can't do.
He bats the ball; he catches it
And runs the bases, too.
All day long I work and play,
I'm busy as can be,
But after dinner every night
I climb on Daddy's knee.
He talks to me and tells me stories
Of things that used to be.
And then when I get sleepy,
He sings a song to me.
There are little eyes upon you,
And they're watching night and day.
There are little ears that quickly
Take in every word you say.
There are little hands all eager
To do anything you do;
And a little boy who's dreaming
Of the day he'll be like you.
You're the little fellows idol
You're the wisest of the wise,
In his little mind about you
No suspicions ever rise;
He believes in you devoutly,
Holds that all you say and do,
He will say and do in your way
When he's all grown up like you.
There's a wide eyed little fellow
Who believes you're always right;
And his ears are always open,
And he watches day and night.
You are setting an example
Every day in all you do;
For the little boy who's waiting
To grow up to be like you.
A dad is a person
Who's loving and kind,
And often he knows
What you have on your mind.
He's someone who listens,
Suggests and defends . . .
A dad can be one
Of your very best friends!
He's proud of your triumphs,
But when things go wrong,
A dad can be patient
And helpful and strong.
In all that you do
A dad's love plays a part--
There's always a place for him
Deep in your heart--
And each year that passes,
You're even more glad,
More grateful and proud
Just to call him your dad!
(Mitch Albom, 1996, The Detroit News)
Here's to the fathers, who always begin,
on the outside of children, but looking in.
Such curious men snapping cameras like mad,
recording the moment, they turn into "Dad."
Here's to the fathers, who put in their time,
who don't say to mother's 'that's your job, not mine'.
Who wipe chins and noses and never say "won't"
who do with the diapers, what some fathers don't.
Here's to the fathers who manage to stay
when so many fathers are turning away.
When so many run, leaving families to rot,
here, then, a cheer, for those who do not.
Here's to the fathers whose big money dreams,
die in the comer while their baby screams.
And yet without anger, dread or regrets,
they comfort the child, hold it close to their chests.
And as the child grows, they grow with it too,
learning a depth that they never knew.
And soon they are older, their hair slightly gone,
chasing two children around the front lawn.
Or car-pooling teams to Little League games,
buying them hamburgers after it rains.
They mend broken dolls and fix broken wheels,
they cringe when their daughters, try their first pair of heels.
They reach in their pockets, but never keep count,
they pay dear for parenthood awful amounts
They postpone their plans to sail across seas,
instead they sing "Barney" and bandage skinned knees.
Here's to the fathers who get off the phone,
to hear their sons practice their new saxophone
Who leave work to see their daughter's recital
Here's to the heroes, who work without title.
For this is a world now full of neglect,
with everyday stories of lives that are wrecked.
Of fatherless children who take up with guns
to kill other children of fatherless sons.
Divorce shattered families, childhood's derailed,
mothers still waiting for checks still un-mailed
You wonder what wrongs these souls ever did
to make a grown man turn away from his kids.
So here's to the fathers who won't compromise
who see a light shining in their children's eyes
And feel a rare glow as if from a gem
and know that once someone saw this glow in them.
For all the good boys they have raised in the world
for all the examples they set for their girls
For all the loved children whose stories they'll tell
Here's to the father's that taught them so well.
Happy Father's Day!
A Father is neither an anchor to hold us back
nor a sail to take us there,
but always a guiding light
whose love shows us the way.
The warm light of your love
shines in my memories and in my heart
reminding me of your guidance
your care, and most of all, your love
A father is a source of strength,
A teacher and a guide,
The one his family looks up to
With loving trust and pride . . .
A father is a helper
With a willing hand to lend,
A partner, an adviser,
And the finest kind of friend.
(Craig and Dean Phillips, © Star Song)
He climbs in my lap for a good night hug
He calls me Dad and I call him Bub
With his faded old pillow and a bear named Pooh
He snuggles up close and says, "I want to be like you"
I tuck him in bed and I kiss him good night
Trippin' over the toys as I turn out the light
And I whisper a prayer that someday he'll see
He's got a father in God 'cause he's seen Jesus in me
Lord, I want to be just like You
'Cause he wants to be just like me
I want to be a holy example
For his innocent eyes to see
Help me be a living Bible, Lord
That my little boy can read
I want to be just like You
'Cause he wants to be like me
Got to admit I've got so far to go
Make so many mistakes and I'm sure that You know
Sometimes it seems no matter how hard I try
With all the pressures in life I just can't get it all right
But I'm trying so hard to learn from the best
Being patient and kind, filled with Your tenderness
'Cause I know that he'll learn from the things that he sees
And the Jesus he finds will be the Jesus in me
Right now from where he stands I may seem mighty tall
But it's only 'cause I'm learning from the best Father of them all
(Charles W Ridlen)
A lways trust your children to God's care
B ring them to church
C hallenge them to high goals
D elight in their achievements
E xalt the Lord in their presence
F rown on evil
G ive them love
H ear their problems
I gnore not their childish fears
J oyfully accept their apologies
K eep their confidence
L ive a good example before them
M ake them your friends
N ever ignore their endless questions
O pen your heart to their love
P ray for them by name
Q uicken your interest in their spirituality
R emember their needs
S how them the way of salvation
T each them to work
U nderstand they are still young
V erify your statements
W ean them from bad company
X pect them to obey
Y earn for God's best for them
Z ealously guide them in Bible truth
I'm sure, like me, you often feel
When all is said and done
The job of raising kids today
Is not an easy one.
I'm glad you're there beside me
To counsel and advise
And help me find the answers
To their never ending "whys?"
I'd be lost without your shoulders
So much broader than my own
To lean upon when problems
Seem to big to solve alone.
As long as we're together
We can weather storm and strife
And take in stride the ups and downs
That go with family life.
And someday when our little ones
Are old enough to stand
Straight and tall without the need
Of any helping hand--
We won't recall how hard it was
We'll just be proud and glad
We happened to be chosen
For the roles of Mom and Dad!
Sitting high on Daddy's shoulders,
I look both up and down.
There are so many people
Hurrying all around.
It is just much too scary
(Until the day I'm older,)
Which is why for now I feel safe
Sitting high on Daddy's shoulders.
Fathers are wonderful people
Too little understood,
And we do not sing their praises
As often as we should . . .
For, somehow, Father seems to be
The man who pays the bills,
While Mother binds up little hurts
And nurses all our ills . . .
And Father struggles daily
To live up to "his image"
As protector and provider
And "hero or the scrimmage" . . .
And perhaps that is the reason
We sometimes get the notion,
That Fathers are not subject
To the thing we call emotion,
But if you look inside Dad's heart,
Where no one else can see
You'll find he's sentimental
And as "soft" as he can be . . .
But he's so busy every day
In the grueling race of life,
He leaves the sentimental stuff
To his partner and his wife . . .
But Fathers are just wonderful
In a million different ways,
And they merit loving compliments
And accolade of praise,
For the only reason Dad aspires
To fortune and success
Is to make the family proud of him
And to bring them happiness . . .
And like Our Heavenly Father,
He's a guardian and a guide,
Someone that we can count on
To be always on our side.
"Well, what are you going to be my boy,
When you have reached manhood's years;
A doctor, a lawyer, or actor great,
Moving throngs to laughter and tears?"
But he shook his head as he gave reply
In a serious way he had:
"I don't think I'd care to be any of them;
I want to be like my Dad!"
He wants to be like his Dad! You men,
Did you ever think as you pause
That the boy who watches your every move
Is building a set of laws?
He's molding a life you're a model for,
And whether it's good or bad
Depends on the kind of example set
To the boy who'd be like his Dad.
Would you have him go everywhere you go?
Have him do just the things you do?
And see everything that your eyes behold,
And woo all the things you woo?
When you see the worship that shines in the eyes
Of your lovable little lad,
Could you rest content if he gets his wish
And grows to be like his Dad?
It's a job that none but yourself can fill;
It's a charge you must answer for;
It's a duty to show him the road to tread
'Ere he reaches his manhood's door.
It's a debt you owe for the greatest joy
On this old earth to be had;
This pleasure of having a boy to raise
Who wants to be like his Dad!
(David Kettler)
Bedtime came; we were settling down,
I was holding one of my lads.
As I grasped him so tight, I saw a strange sight:
My hands . . . they looked like my dad's!
I remember them well, those old gnarled hooks,
there was always a cracked nail or two.
And thanks to a hammer that strayed from its mark,
his thumb was a beautiful blue!
They were rough, I remember, incredibly tough,
as strong as a carpenter's vice.
But holding a scared little boy at night,
they seemed to me awfully nice!
The sight of those hands--how impressive it was
in the eyes of his little boy.
Other dads' hands were cleaner, it seemed
(the effects of their office employ).
I gave little thought in my formative years
of the reason for Dad's raspy mitts:
The love in the toil, the dirt and the oil,
rusty plumbing that gave those hands fits!
Thinking back, misty-eyed, and thinking ahead,
when one day my time is done.
The torch of love in my own wrinkled hands
will pass on to the hands of my son.
I don't mind the bruises, the scars here and there
or the hammer that just seemed to slip.
I want most of all when my son takes my hand,
to feel that love lies in the grip.
(Grace Noll Crowell)
My hand is large and his is small,
And there is nothing on earth at all
More important than the task
That lies ahead of me, I ask
For wisdom, Lord, that I may lead
This child aright; his every need
Depends on me. Be Thou my guide
That I, in walking by his side,
May choose the right paths for his feet.
The days are swift, the years are fleet,
Mark me alert in deed and word
As we go forward, blessed Lord:
His precious clinging hand in mine,
With always, Lord, my hand in Thine.
(Note: Carolyn Woodie used this in an album with a photo of father holding a newborn's hand.)
Daddy's hands were soft and kind
when I was crying;
Daddy's hands were hard as steel
when I'd done wrong;
Daddy's hands weren't always gentle,
but I've come to understand . . .
There was always love in Daddy's hands.
(Richard J. Kent)
Make me half the man my father was
And I'll know that I've been blest.
Give me half his courage and loving care
And a kingdom I'll possess.
When I was young and foolish
I heard but didn't hear
His words of wisdom, his sound advice,
The need to persevere.
When I grew older and wiser,
I saw what I hadn't seen:
His strength to cope with adversity
And do it with dignity.
No need for the Ten Commandments
When I came to a fork in the road.
I had only to think what he would have done
And again, he'd carry my load.
Make me half the father to my two sons
As the father he was to me
And I know that I will rest at peace
Throughout eternity.
He's rough and lacks in etiquette,
Society would say.
He has no classy attributes,
To help him on his way.
He's not a fancy dresser,
And he's not so trimmed and neat.
With simple clothes and simple shoes,
He wears upon his feet.
He doesn't belong to a club,
Or drive a shiny car.
And when he takes vacations,
He does not go very far.
He doesn't dine on fine cuisine,
To him fast food's a treat.
And he may use a plastic fork,
When it is time to eat.
He has a modest little house,
But has all that he needs.
He keeps his lawn cut nice and short,
He even trims his weeds.
He works long hours at his job,
To make an average pay.
And even if he's sick or tired,
He goes to work each day.
His job is just a factory job,
His pay just makes ends meet.
But, a few good friends and family,
Make his life complete.
He's not well versed in poetry,
Theater or the arts.
And wisdom is not something,
That he constantly imparts.
He loves the simple things in life,
For riches doesn't thirst.
He knows what is important,
And his family is put first.
The wealth that God has given him,
To treasure in his life.
A loving son and daughter,
And a very special wife.
He never has much money,
And his life is not a show.
But he is still the richest man,
That I will ever know.
To others he's a simple man,
And fame he's never had.
But he's the greatest man I know,
He also is my Dad.
Walk a little slower daddy
said a little child so small,
I'm following your footsteps
and I don't want to fall.
Sometimes your steps are very fast
sometimes they are hard to see,
so walk a little slower Daddy,
For you are leading me.
Someday when I'm all grown up
you are what I want to be,
then I will have a little child
who will want to follow me.
I would want to lead just right
and know that I was true,
so walk a little slower Daddy,
For I must follow you!
"Walk a little plainer Daddy," said a little child so small.
"I'm following in your footsteps, and I don't want to fall.
Sometimes your steps are very plain; sometimes they are hard to see;
so walk a little plainer Daddy, for you are leading me.
I know that once you walked this way many years ago;
and what you did along the way I'd really like to know.
For sometimes when I'm tempted, I don't know what to do;
so walk a little plainer Daddy, for I must follow you.
Someday when I'm grown up, you are like I want to be;
then I will have a little child who will want to follow me.
And I would want to lead just right, and know that I was true;
so walk a little plainer Daddy, for I must follow you.
When I heard the news of you,
I did the things most Daddies do.
I opened up my heart so wide,
For you to have a place inside.
As each day passed, I'd think of you,
I'd watch you grow, I was expecting too!
I tried to imagine the person you'd be
Would you look or act like me?
I thought of the things that we would do,
The times we'd share, just us two.
I would give you piggyback rides,
Push your swing and watch you slide.
I would teach you how to ride a bike,
Catch your first ball and throw your first strike.
I would hold your hand in mine,
Be your protector, strong yet kind.
I would be your hero and friend,
Give love and advice on which you'd depend.
I will always remember the day you were born,
I cradled a miracle, small and warm.
What words I had were scarce and few,
A tear and a smile were the best I could do.
Life gave me a moment, precious and rare,
Bursting with pride, excitement and care.
I promised you then, all that I had,
See, you were my child and I was your Dad.
When I heard the news of you,
I did the things most Daddies do.
I opened my heart so wide,
Where you will always have a place inside.
(Eileen Knight Hagemeister)
To be a man in grief,
Since "men don't cry"
and "men are strong"
No tears can bring relief.
It must be very difficult
To stand up to the test
And field calls and visitors
So she can get some rest.
They always ask if she's all right
And what she's going through,
But seldom take his hand and ask,
"My friend, but how are you?"
He hears her crying in the night
And thinks his heart will break.
He dries her tears and comforts her,
But "stays strong" for her sake.
It must be very difficult
To start each day anew
And try to be so very brave--
He lost his baby, too.