Dear Exhausted Dad, Here’s What I Would Say to My Younger Self
Hey, dad…are you exhausted?
I see you, dad. You look tired and discouraged, but…you’re here.
You are attending a parenting workshop Lynne and I are presenting, and I can see that your gaze is fixed. And, based on your eye contact and nods, you are attentive. You write notes and take the time to write down the kind of parent you want to be at the end of each section. I perceive a sense of urgency.
You’re tired from trying so hard to get this parenting thing right
I see you occasionally exchange knowing but nervous glances with your wife when we describe common parenting tensions—as if you’ve been found out together. After working with parents for decades, I can’t help wondering if what I sense in you is much like what I’ve heard from other dads when I get the chance to engage one-on-one.
I’m guessing you and your spouse want to be together in this parenting journey, but your ways and hers are very different. This creates frequent tension and discouragement between you.
You’re here together, wanting to encourage each other but not knowing how. I can see in your glances and eye contact with me (and with your wife) that you two really long to embody God’s grace with each other, for each other, and for your kids.
Judging by your responses to stories of Lynne’s and my struggles, it seems like you’ve had your share, too. Maybe even more than your share. Dad, I can’t help but wonder if you’re feeling burdened and overwhelmed. Believe me, I know about that. I was the exhausted dad wanting to get parenting right. I’ve been there!
And if I could turn back time 25 years and speak to my younger self, this is what I’d say and what I believe might be helpful for you.
Your mistakes aren’t your identity as a parent or as a follower of Jesus
Your struggles don’t define you. In the midst of the dad exhaustion (add in some stresses at work, a child with special needs, sleepless nights, or whatever combo you’re going through), you’re probably not always going to live up to your parenting ideal. Whatever mistakes you’ve made, whatever irrational words you’ve used that you wish you could take back, they aren’t the core of who you are.
Yes, the sin that so easily entangles really does entangle, doesn’t it? Being a dad seemingly puts that sin on display, and it isn’t going away anytime soon. But it does not define you. The real you, perhaps sometimes hidden behind a wall of baggage from your past, is righteous. The apostle Paul makes it clear: If you are a follower of Christ, you have a new identity.
“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! … God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” (2 Corinthians 5:17, 21)
The mayhem of fatherhood can feel like way too much
I lost sight of this many times. It’s easy to forget in the daily grind of menus, schedules, homework, and messes. One such day was during our first “family vacation” with our young family. Sick and crabby kids, an ornery husband and wife, lousy weather, and a cramped condo created a type of discouraging chemistry. I can see it all so clearly now. But at the time, all I could see was my own misery and dad exhaustion.
I took a walk to settle down and protect myself and my family from the monster raging inside me. The walk turned into a run. I wanted (and needed) to get as far away from the family mayhem as possible.
At the end of my sprint on a dirt road was a metal real estate sign swinging back and forth in the cold, damp wind. I heaved to catch my breath in rhythm with the sign. As my breathing slowed, the sign did not. The sign’s swift swinging reminded me that back at the condo, the chaos carried on. I came to quickly hate that sign. Not really the sign, but what it represented — the reality of my out-of-control circumstances.
I took out my fury on the sign. I picked up a rock at the roadside and hurled it. The clash of rock on metal was strangely satisfying. I did it again. And again and again. I threw rocks until my arm hurt. And then the floodgates opened. The tears stung my cold, windswept eyes. I cried out, “God, where are you?!?!?”
At the side of the road, the pummeled sign kept swinging, a reminder that neither messy circumstances nor God’s presence would ever cease.
God is with you in the midst of the struggle and exhaustion
I didn’t realize it at the time, but upon later reflection, it became vividly clear. God was right there with me in the chaos.
I didn’t do everything “right” that day, and I have failed as a father many times since. But I have never been alone in the struggle. This realization frees me to smile, not in happiness about getting it right, but in joy that even in my struggle, God is present.
Dad, I don’t know the specifics of your mess. Maybe you’re feeling overwhelmed, struggling to connect with a defiant child, or at odds with your spouse. I don’t know what challenge you might want to mend or avoid.
But this I know: Your desire to escape the chaos reflects your deepest longing – for peace, for joy, for reconciled relationships and circumstances unencumbered by life’s messes. It’s a longing for heaven. It reveals that God is present, even in your mess.
To become more aware of God’s very real presence in the messiness of our lives here on earth, you may even repeat this simple prayer out loud, “God, you never leave me nor forsake me.” It might take weeks, months, or even years, but if you keep bringing truth phrases to your struggle, you too will smile.
And one other thing: Don’t call them vacations. Vacations evoke images of peace and rest. Call them family adventures. Then, if peace and rest come, you can smile some more. If they leave you more tired, well, that’s what memories are made of.
And, exhausted dad… it’s okay. You won’t always be this tired.
© 2014, 2022, 2024 Connected Families
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