Dad doesn’t need a necktie or a new gadget.

Do you want to give a dad — your father, your husband, your brother, a neighbor, a coworker, a cousin, or even some guy you observe at the store or a ballgame — a gift that he won’t forget and might even treasure forever?  It won’t cost you a dime, though in some cases you might have to swallow some pride.  Or maybe let go of some grudges you’ve been holding onto or attitudes you’ve found useful.  It’s a gift good for any day or occasion, not just Father’s Day.  Here it is: 

Tell him you see him.

All those things he does without recognition, without expecting a “thank you”, day in and day out, year after year, whether it’s hard work or horseplay with the kids, earning a living or burning the midnight oil for a project around the house — the things he puts up with, the complaints he doesn’t make, the lessons he teaches, the example he sets, the burdens he carries, the hurts he buries, the problems he keeps to himself so no one else has to carry anything more — whatever it is, whatever you see, whatever shows he’s a man who works hard at being a father:  notice it, appreciate it, and tell him you see it.  

Tell him you see the things he’s doing because he’s a dad, and that it matters.  Maybe it matters to you directly, maybe you just know how much it matters to his kids, maybe it’s something you appreciate in a special way, but whatever it is, tell him it’s making a difference.  

Because it matters to him to hear it.  He needs to know he’s doing a good job — or even just know that he’s doing a better job than he did before, or better than his own dad did.

There are just too many voices these days telling him something different — telling him

• that his deep drive to provide and protect is outdated and toxic, 
• that the only way to be a good parent is to be a mom, 
• that he can never measure up to whatever the modern and scientific ideal is (today) 
• that he can never measure up to whatever his wife’s ideal is (today).

But the voice that is most critical, most constant, most insistent, and most noisy is his own, saying, “Maybe they’re right, maybe I’m no good.  I should be doing more.  My kids are suffering because I haven’t done this right.  This is my responsibility and I’m messing it up.  See that thing that just happened, that went wrong, that my girl said, that my boy did, that their mother complained about?  That’s proof.  There’s nothing more important for me to be doing, and I’m bungling it.”

So tell him you see him.  He doesn’t have to be perfect.  You don’t have to make anything up or pretend — that’s no gift.  Don’t be insincere — he’ll see right through it.

But lift him up and tell him what you do see — that it’s good, that he’s appreciated, that he’s doing what a dad is supposed to do.  And that it matters.

He matters.  Tell him you see him.  He won’t forget.