I’m not sure Father’s Day is a real thing. I mean, I know it’s on the calendar. I just can’t decide if it’s a Hallmark holiday—obligatory cards and forced congratulations for nothing in particular. Is it a testosterone version of Arbor Day? Cause come on, who actually celebrates Arbor Day? I tend to lump Father’s Day in with all the weird, made-up holidays like Ferris Wheel Day or Boss’s Day (check out the weirdest holidays here). Father’s Day is certainly different from Mother’s Day. On Mother’s Day, moms don’t get a break—they’re still cooking, cleaning, and fighting for a semblance of order. And for all their tireless work what do they get? A stupid card and cheap chocolate—maybe. Dads, on the other hand, get the royal treatment for no particular reason. We are entreated to sit in our underwear, eat an entire rack of ribs, and only do what is easy. For what? Adulting well? I’m pretty sure we don’t deserve it. Either way, in honor of the upcoming festivities of Father’s Day, I’d like to reflect on my own dad and his significant contribution to my life. Here are five things my dad taught me.
1. Work Hard. I moved in with my dad when I was 15. Our first conversation orbited around his requirement for me to get a job. I thought he was joking. He didn’t laugh. He told me to hop on my Huffy and go put an application in at the grocery store. “Work is part of life,” he told me. Not something to be lamented, but enjoyed. I have found this to be, perhaps, his greatest contribution to my life. Marriage, ministry, and kids—all hard work, but work I enjoy.
2. Think Critically. For every problem, there is an answer. For a kid who had more questions than answers, that was an unthinkable axiom. “The world isn’t looking for smart people, but people that can get things done.” I can hear that coming out of his mouth in a hundred different cadences and versions. He valued education, but he also valued applying horse-sense to real life situations.
3. Communicate Clearly. My dad is a New York Jew. Straight forward. Smart. Even shrewd. He has an edge for sure. But he’s not rude. And while my Alabama, sweet tea sensibilities are often taken aback at the way he speaks to people, I realize he’s not being a jerk. He’s being up front; clear in his intentions. I have found this lesson to be invaluable in working with people. Shouting isn’t how I get people to hear me. Speaking clearly is.
4. Say “I’m Sorry.” My dad said “sorry” a lot. It’s funny because as I look back on my adolescence, I was the one doing most of the screwing up. Backtalk and rebellion; lying and skipping school. I should have been the one begging for forgiveness. And yet when he blew it or forgot about a tennis match or lost his temper, he was quick to admit his frailty and say “I’m sorry.” This was the mercy of God being put on display for me long before I knew the mercy of God.
5. Say “I Love You”. My parents are both affectionate—embarrassingly so. Long hugs and sloppy kisses from both mom and dad are part of the Quitt family landscape. I got used to it by the time I was in high school. But now that I’m an adult, I realize what a gift it was to hear those words every day, even multiple times a day. I have adopted the over-the-top affection that my dad passed on to me. I love to embarrass my kids with well placed I love you’s. I see the eye rolls, but maybe one day they will appreciate it.