I am not a father. I have no children. Not even a goldfish. I am, however, an observer. A good friend of mine, who is a father, recently said about a compliment he’d received that he would “save that one for someday when I’m feeling more useless than usual.”
In watching the men around me be and become fathers (to be sure, the constant and faithful act of fathering both requires and encourages manhood), it seems one of the burdens of fatherhood is the vast stretch of years when one feels “more useless than usual,” punctuated by moments when it becomes clear that your children simply could not make it without you.
What more rewarding and frustrating effort could there be than this child, who is your responsibility, which both rejects and demands your help, by turns loves and nearly hates you, and in the end is so completely of and for you that you cannot but stand strongly through the years for those moments when that constant strength is needed?
What man can ever say he is ready for this?