Category: parenting

Father’s Day arrives each June like clockwork. Cards, advertisements, neckties, hats, and mugs about dads seem to be everywhere we look. But what happens when a clock stopped over seven years ago—when the children who once colored cards for their dad suddenly lost the chance to hand them over?

For those of us who still grieve what was lost, Father’s Day became something to avoid, a Hallmark holiday we pretend doesn’t exist.

That was our reality.  We spent each June honoring my dad and other great dads in our kids’ lives. And at the same time, we avoided the commercials, steered clear of church photo booths, and spent the second Sunday in June far from people celebrating something my kids had lost.

Yet this year felt different.

God has woven a new chapter: a wise and gentle “bonus dad” has stepped into our story. The kids want to celebrate with him, to shout their gratitude. They have spent weeks asking when Father’s Day is and what they can make and do to celebrate him.

And yet, I found myself unsure of how to proceed.

We’ve avoided this day for so long, and amid the happy tears, a little sadness still lingers. Sitting at the same table are their bonus dad’s children, carrying their own memories and loyalties. Joy and tenderness now share the same plate, and everyone walks softly.

So in these past few weeks, I’ve wrestled with how to honor both grief and gratitude in a blended family on Father’s Day. I asked for advice. I turned to Scripture. Here’s what I realized:

1. God Draws Near to Broken Hearts

Grief does not have an expiration date. Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Our heavenly Father acknowledges loss without rushing us past it. We can still honor and remember Ben even amid thanking God for the gift of Max.

2. Scripture Tells Us About Fathers Who Stand in as Earthly Fathers

The Bible presents God as a Father who welcomes, adopts, and accepts us into His family (Romans 8:15). In Matthew 1, we see Joseph step into the role of earthly father for Jesus, raising and protecting Him with love and courage. A bonus dad’s role isn’t second place—it reflects God’s adoptive embrace. That is something to recognize and deeply appreciate.

(Bonus fact: Did you know Max’s first name is actually Joseph? How cool is that?)

3. We Rejoice and Weep—Sometimes in the Same Breath

Blended families carry mixed emotions. One child may be bursting with excitement to bake muffins for a bonus dad, while another feels unsure of how to proceed. Biological children may wrestle with the idea of others sharing a day that once belonged solely to their father.

“Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15). There’s room for both. Yesterday we rejoiced—and deep down, I believe Ben is rejoicing too, watching the love being poured into his children. That thought warms my heart even as it aches. I am so deeply grateful they get to feel a father’s love again.

Blended families navigating different kinds of loss rarely look the same. Trusting God means acknowledging that we don’t need a perfect template. We place the fragile, beautiful mix of grief and gratitude in His hands.

This Father’s Day, I tread lightly.

We celebrated my amazing dad, who has shown up for me and my kids in countless ways. We remembered Ben, who prayed for and gave life to each of our children—and loved them more than anything in the world. And we celebrated Max, an incredible man who has stepped in with compassion, strength, and love.

Our family looks different now. And I’m learning that’s okay.

Mourning and dancing can intertwine, and we can rejoice as we press forward.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad.
Happy Father’s Day in heaven, Ben.
Happy Father’s Day here on earth, Max.

You are all so deeply loved and appreciated.

               I recently got heart-breaking news delivered right as my sixth graders returned from lunch.  I had not processed the news enough myself to even know how to respond when the students came barreling in and saw me crying as I hung up the phone.  I left school quickly, fully expecting someone would tell them why I was upset so that they would understand. 

               I received so many emails from students in the subsequent hours.  Students who had not even seen me that day, or who were in my morning classes, were emailing because they heard I was crying.  They wanted to make sure that I was okay.  And they all wanted to make sure that I would be coming back to school the next day.  I was told to tell them I had a family emergency and would be back next week.

               There was a time a few years ago when I thought I needed to shelter my kids from any kind of sadness and suffering.  I tried for several years to shelter them from their dad’s seizures and cancer.  I did not think they needed to know he was sick.  I wanted them to have a carefree childhood free of pain and suffering.  But when my twins were only three years old, their dad took them on a walk through the neighborhood and had a seizure.  He fell off the curb into the road.  They sat with strangers and watched as he was loaded into an ambulance and waited for me to arrive to pick them up.  I realized when they explained it to me that they knew far more than I realized and that sheltering them only made them more afraid.

Here is what I have learned about sheltering my kids:

• Loss and pain is a very real part of life. It is everywhere. You cannot hide from loss and you cannot run away from it. Someday they will have to face pain. And when they do have to face it head on, they need to know how to process it.
• Sheltering them makes them think we should ignore hard things. When we shelter our kids, we are teaching them it is not acceptable to talk about hard things. It is teaching them that pain and loss and things to be avoided. When my kids first started school, I remember a teacher telling me that my son needed to go to counseling because he was always telling people his dad was dead. I remember saying, “but he is.” The teacher told me that it was not healthy for a six-year-old to talk about loss so much. But speaking that truth is necessary for us to process it as reality. The last thing I ever want is for my children to grow up thinking that they cannot talk about hard things or that they should avoid them because it might make others uncomfortable. That loss is a part of who they are.
• Letting my children feel the pain and loss of others has developed compassion in them. It has taught them to feel for others who have lost. It is teaching them to be kind individuals. When I told my kids about losing their grandfather recently, the first words out of my 7 year old’s mouth were, “That is so sad for Grandma. Now she has lost her son and her husband. She must be very sad. Are we going to go see her so we can hug her?” And I cried. Not only for our loss, but for her loss, and for my mother-in-law’s loss. And because my children have had to process so much pain already in their young lives.

               The last few years I have struggled with whether to shelter or expose my children to pain and loss and suffering.  But pain and loss are very real parts of life.  They will not be able to avoid those difficult moments as the get older and they have to know how to persevere through hard things and come out stronger. 

               I still pray that difficult moments will not find them.  I pray that we will not have to face the loss of anyone else that we love and I pray they will not have to mourn lost relationships.  I try to make sure that my kids lives are filled with as much sunshine, confetti and roses as possible and I try to teach them to embrace every single day head first.  But when those difficult moments come, so much more frequently than I would hope, I hope I have taught them to face them head on too.  We cry the tears, we embrace the sadness, we hug each other a little tighter, and we learn the lessons… together, one heartbreak at a time. 

We have been talking a lot about telling the truth around our house lately… about what the truth is and when it is okay to tell a lie. 

The kids have asked why sometimes parents lie to their kids and why adults would lie to each other.  It has brought up a lot of hard conversations that I have tried to handle with grace.  I have been learning to share my thoughts carefully these days since my kids love to share exactly what I say with everyone they know. 

Last night they asked if there are good lies and bad lies and how to tell the difference.

First, I do not think that lying to our children is ever a good practice.  It causes them to lose their trust in us and it can even cause them to lose their faith in people in general. 

But, we talked about how sometimes parents will lie to their children to keep something a surprise… by maybe telling them they are going one place when they are really going somewhere else.  The parents mean well and don’t consider that lying, but later on the child may only remember that their parents told them something different.  Why did they lie to me? 

Do I lie?  Sometimes…

I take a different approach with my kids… and I tell them outright if I am going to lie to them… which they reminded me of during this conversation.  Whenever I take them on a surprise trip, they love to try to guess where we are going.  I tell them upfront, even if they guess the surprise, I will not tell them and ruin the surprise.  Sometimes I will even say, one of your twenty guesses was correct, but I’m not going to tell you which one. 

Telling the truth builds trust.

I think it is important to build the element of trust with my kids.  If they are going to the dentist to have work done on their teeth, I tell them that yes, it is going to hurt.  If we are going to have to face a fear, I address it head on rather than letting it be a last minute surprise. 

When their dad was sick and they told me that they were scared of him dying, I never promised them that he was going to be okay.  Instead I told them that I got scared sometimes too, but that I prayed that God would heal him and I knew that no matter what, WE would be okay.  As a rule, I never make promises that I’m not sure I can keep to them.  If I’m not sure about something, I tell them upfront I don’t know.  And I rarely say never…

Proverbs 12:22 says, “The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in people that are trustworthy.”

I would take that verse a step further and say that our children delight in us too when they know they can trust us to follow thru on our words. 

So in answer to the kids question, no I don’t think that there are good lies and bad lies… I think it is important to speak truth to them so that they will grow up to be adults of strong character as well.

What do you think?  Are there situations when you think it would be okay to not tell the truth to a child?  Times when you think that there are “good” lies?