I was born two weeks early.  Back in the 1970s, before many of the modern technologies hospitals have now to help premies, that was a big deal.  My mother told me I came out so fast, the doctor barely had time to get his gloves on to catch me.  It was determined that something was wrong with me and so tests were performed and it came as no surprise that my parents, especially my mother, were worried.  My father immediately called my grandpa to come and help him give me a priesthood blessing.  When they arrived at the hospitals nursery where I was, the nurses wouldn’t allow my grandpa and father inside for safety reasons regarding the other babies there.  But they did permit them to take me out into the hall, just outside of the nursery.  My grandpa said I was so small, he could hold me in the palm of his hand.  So in that cold, empty hospital hallway, with the priesthood they held, my father and grandfather gave me a blessing of healing.

The next morning, when all the test results came back, everything was negative.  I was healthy and able to go home that day.  My mother firmly believes it was because of the blessing I was given that I was healed.

Years and years later, I delivered my second baby, our little Josie.  She was a month early and was immediately rushed to the newborn intensive care unit (NICU) because she was not breathing correctly. It was like I was reliving my mother’s life, as the nurses told my husband and our family friend that they were not permitted into the nursery to administer to our baby girl.  But they were allowed to take her into the hall, right outside of the nursery.  And so, it was there, that my husband and our good friend Joel, by the power of the priesthood, were able to give her a blessing of healing.

And within a week, she was able to come home with us, healthy and strong.

I remember speaking with my Mom about what I had been feeling as I watched my lil’ baby struggle to breathe and felt so helpless, knowing I couldn’t do a thing to ease her pain. And then the feeling of relief after she was blessed with the power of the priesthood…I knew she would be okay. I knew the Savior was with her.  He understood my pain as well as hers.  And she was healed.  And I was so humbly grateful.

Oh how grateful I am for my father…for my children’s father…for my Father in Heaven…..these men in our lives, they should be honored and loved and respected.  My life would not be filled with the peace of mind and love of heart if not for these amazing, eternal men.

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My parents divorced when I was very young, but throughout my childhood I remained very close with my father. When I was young, high-school aged, we talked on the telephone almost every day. He lived in Canada and I in Utah, so the means in which we were able to nurture a close relationship was during our short summer visits and to share our lives via phone. I remember discussing with him experiences from my day, daily jibber-jabber that most teenagers are fascinated with and most certainly the kind of talk parents get easily bored with. Nonetheless, my dad was always interested and eager to hear about my life and also my feelings about life. He offered great counsel and validation for a young girl struggling to find her place in this world. He was a blessing to me in a huge way as he always made me feel important even though deep down, I didn’t.

On August 23rd 1993 my father passed away after struggling with a long series of illnesses. I missed him, I loved him and I needed him. Years later I ran across a cassette tape with old answering machine recordings on it. In those days the answering machines were not built into your phone like voice mail is today, they were external pieces of equipment that actually recorded the messages onto a cassette tape. So I popped the cassette into my tape deck (again, a piece of equipment from the past) and began listening. After a few minutes of listen to rather meaningless messages from friends and boyfriends I heard the expected in between messages ‘BEEP’ followed with heavy breathing and a pause… I knew it was my beloved father…. my heart paused in excitement to hear his voice again,  then… a loud gregarious belch and ‘HANGUP.’ I immediately began laughing as I knew exactly who that was. My father was a jokester, the best prankster known to man. He was always up for a laugh even at the expense of being ill mannered. That was my dad, my loving, caring, affectionate and larger than life dad.  I was brought back to that moment in time when that sweet phone belch use to make me feel so special. I stopped the tape and sat on my floor utterly enjoying the moment with tears in my eyes, absorbing the flood of feelings as I remembered the warmth and affection of my loving father.

WHAT I LEARNED from this experience is that sometimes it is the little, simple things that mean the most. Sometimes the way in which we show love and affection is passionate and sincere but other times a simple belch on the recorder will do the trick. Though my father was a passionate loving man and easily expressed his affection to me and others. He was also great at showing it in other ways as well. That phone belch will rest in my memory as a very simple yet effective way of my father expressing to me, in his own way that he was thinking about me, loved me and cared for me deeply.

One of my favorite quotes about parenting is from Alvin Prince that said “Parents need to fill a child’s bucket of self-esteem so high that the rest of the world can’t poke enough holes to drain it dry.” That was my father, always filling others’ buckets.

Interestingly the lessons I learned from my father about loving others has made an abiding impression upon me about the importance of fathers (and mothers) and their expression of love towards their children.  In many ways as a mother I have been influenced by my late father who showed me in vibrant colors the importance of loving others and showing it. Sometimes it is by small and simple means (Alma 37:6) that we share affection to those we love and other times overflowing and consuming, the important thing is that we do it. I love my father and miss him greatly. I am so very grateful for the many lessons he taught me, especially for the lessons about relationships and paramount ways that I am worth loving, for he loved me abundantly and I knew it.

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Today’s post is by Sue.

Happy Father’s Day!

My husband is the kind of father every child needs and deserves to have but doesn’t always get. Sadly, those who are not blessed with such fathers become painfully aware of it over time, for they must navigate life in the absence of that strong, supportive presence from whose influence every young person should benefit.

The fortunate ones, those who do have a stalwart and loving father in their lives, may never fully appreciate their good luck. Being parented by a strong, devoted man who gives his all to create a safe, secure place for you to grow and thrive makes it’s hard to even imagine living outside the shadow of that sheltering tree he provides. Not that you don’t value the branches that protect you, just that you don’t know what it’s like to brave the elements without them. And you never will know either, not until your father passes away, and even then you will somehow feel his influence in a way that comforts and sustains you. The essence of a good father is never really removed from his children, even when his physical presence is gone.

One of my sons, a pretty wonderful father in his own right, is a marriage and family therapist who has counseled adolescent offenders incarcerated in the criminal justice system. These are generally young men whose standards are either skewed or non-existent, gang members who have committed murder or other violent acts with little or no remorse. Their world of struggling for survival has seldom been peopled with supportive, hands-on fathers, and almost never with men who were ready and willing to model behavior conducive to a healthy, positive lifestyle. This son of mine has always appreciated and looked up to his dad, but working in juvenile hall has probably given him a more meaningful understanding of the powerful role a father plays in the lives of his children.

Of course, I have always understood the role my husband plays in our family, and on this Father’s Day, I want to take this opportunity to thank him. I am grateful that my children have grown up beneath his sheltering tree, and I share with them the gift of knowing that someone solid, steady, and reliable will always stand beside me. As hard as he works, as all-consuming as his schedule can be, I know with certainty that he is ready to drop everything to support his loved ones in time of need. His constant, enduring (and endearing) commitment is to making life better for the people he serves so selflessly––the family he has sacrificed himself for every day of his married life.

p.s. It has always been a comfort to me knowing that all of us are born with a Heavenly Father, whose love and concern for us are infinite. His tender care and compassion are extended to every man and woman who seek Him, and His influence in our lives and hearts is more powerful and perfect than we can imagine. How grateful I am for His kind and constant presence in my life.

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If you are a mother, feel free to also tell us about the father of your children.

We welcome essays and photos about the fathers in your life if you prefer to share in that way. Photos could include pictures of you with your father (or grandfather), your father doing an activity he enjoys, or any fun and appropriate candid photo. Please send them by emailing us at ‘mormonwoman’ AT ‘gmail’ DOT ‘com’.

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By divine design, fathers are to preside over their families in love and righteousness and are responsible to provide the necessities of life and protection for their families. Fathers are to provide their families with the necessities of life and protection.

The Family: A Proclamation to the World

En Español:

To all you fathers out there, and to our own fathers, we say: Happy Father’s Day! Feliz Día del Padre!

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