A Look in the Rearview Mirror

Someone has said, "A dad is a guy who carries photos where his money used to be." In my case, fatherhood means a driveway full of bicycles and footballs where I used to park my car. These days our driveway is part art gallery (covered with sidewalk chalk graffiti) and a community playground (with children hanging around).

Last Monday evening I hurriedly maneuvered my car through the obstacle course of bikes and balls and began to drive down the street—my mind already on the college class I would teach that evening. Glancing in my rearview mirror, I noticed my 13-year-old daughter running down the sidewalk with one of her friends. They were laughing and waving at me, so I slowed down, lowered the window, and asked what they wanted. Mindy called, "We just wanted to say goodbye!" Feeling a bit impatient, and not wanting to arrive late for class, I waved goodbye and drove on. But in the rearview mirror I watched while Mindy and her friend continued laughing and running down the sidewalk until they rounded the corner and they disappeared from view.

I've been looking at life's rearview mirror a lot lately. As my son Matt graduates from high school this month and heads off to college this fall, I find myself looking back and reviewing the precious memories and demanding responsibilities of fatherhood. Some days you wonder when your kids will ever grow up; other days you scratch your head and wonder how the years have flown by so quickly. How vividly I remember cradling my daughter Michelle in my arms and strapping her into her car seat—but now that she's 17, I hand her the car keys instead.

Fatherhood unearths powerful feelings of joy and concern somehow akin to our Heavenly Father's love.

In these days when it's common to bash the much-maligned American male, isn't it time we thank God for the many dads who sincerely try to do things right? For dads who instill in their sons and daughters a love for Christ and the Word? Who show up at their kids' ballgames and concerts and find time just to listen? Who try not to exasperate their children, but bring them up in the "training and instruction of the Lord" (Ephesians 6:4)? Aren't you grateful for dads whose toughness has a tender side, who lead by the power of a consistent example, and express their love earnestly—even if a bit awkwardly?

Shouldn't we thank the Lord for men who steadily guide their children through the minefields of adolescence, accompany their families to church, and support their kids not only with dollars but with prayers and godly counsel? Shouldn't we thank God for dads who leave a legacy like that of Enoch who "walked with God" (Genesis 5:24), and Hananiah who "was a man of integrity" (Nehemiah 7:2), and Timothy who took a genuine interest in others' welfare (Philippians 2:20)?

Deep in our hearts, we dads realize we don't want to look at life's rearview mirror someday and wonder why we were always hustling off to finish a job or pursue a hobby or make another dollar while our kids were running eagerly after us, hoping for a bit of attention.

Last Monday, I rushed out for my class. (It had been a busy day, and I was running late again). As I backed my car out of the cluttered driveway, in my rearview mirror I noticed Mindy waving goodbye.

This time I pulled over, stopped the car, and got out. I gave Mindy a hug, and talked for a few moments before I drove away.

I was a couple of minutes late for class that night. But my students didn't seem to mind at all.

And neither did I.