Celebrating the Men Who Show Up

True fathers don’t just provide financially — though that’s important. They provide emotionally, spiritually, and physically.

They show up to school plays and soccer games. They listen to endless stories about playground drama. They teach their children how to ride bikes, tie shoes, and navigate disappointment.

But more than anything, they model how love looks in action.

They show their daughters how they deserve to be treated by watching how Daddy treats Mommy. They show their sons that real strength includes gentleness, that real men protect rather than intimidate.

The fathers I admire most aren’t necessarily the ones making headlines or achieving worldly success.

They’re the quiet heroes who wake up early to make pancakes before school, who work long hours but never miss bedtime stories, who coach Little League teams and show equal enthusiasm whether their team wins or loses.

These men understand that fatherhood isn’t about being perfect — it’s about being present.

It’s about creating safe environments where children can be themselves, make mistakes, and know they’re loved unconditionally.

My admiration for good fathers shows up consistently in my novels. I’m drawn to writing men who embrace fatherhood wholeheartedly, who find their children to be blessings rather than burdens.

There’s something incredibly attractive about a man who lights up when talking about his kids.

In Unconditional Love, Xavier rears his daughter Emily as a single father after her mother abandons them. He doesn’t just survive single parenthood — he thrives in it.

He learns to braid hair, paint tiny fingernails, and have tea parties, all while maintaining his masculinity and strength.

He shows Emily how unconditional love looks through his actions, not just his words.

I’ll be honest — I find nothing more attractive than watching a good man with his children.

The way his face softens when his toddler runs to him. The patience he shows teaching his teenager to drive. The fierce protectiveness that kicks in when someone hurts his child.

This is why my romance heroes are often fathers or men who long to be fathers.

They understand that true strength isn’t about domination — it’s about protection.

They know that real men don’t diminish others to feel powerful; they lift others up and find their strength in service.

My own relationship with earthly fathers was complicated for many years.

Without going into painful details, I learned early that not all men who become fathers actually know how to be dads.

This shaped my view of authority figures, including God, in ways that took years to untangle.

But sometimes our greatest struggles lead us to our greatest discoveries.

When I finally understood that God wasn’t like the flawed men in my life — that He was actually the perfect Father I’d always longed for — everything changed.

God doesn’t lose His temper or withhold love based on performance or looks. He doesn’t abandon His children when things get difficult.

He celebrates our victories, comforts our defeats, and loves us unconditionally with consistency that earthly fathers, being human, sometimes struggle to maintain.

Understanding God as my perfect Father didn’t diminish my appreciation for good earthly fathers — it enhanced it.

Now I see men who love their children well as reflections of our Heavenly Father’s heart.

Good fathers create ripple effects that extend far beyond their own families.

Children who are loved well by their fathers grow up with security, confidence, and healthy relationship patterns. They know how love looks, so they’re less likely to accept counterfeits.

Daughters with loving fathers have higher self-esteem and make better relationship choices. Sons with involved fathers are more likely to become involved fathers themselves.

The cycle of love perpetuates itself through generations.

Not every child has a biological father who steps up, but many have other men who fill that role beautifully.

Grandfathers, uncles, stepfathers, mentors, teachers, coaches, and family friends sometimes become the father figures that children need.

These men deserve recognition too. They didn’t have to love someone else’s child — they chose to.

They saw a need and filled it. They understood that fatherhood is about choice and commitment, not just biology.

I grew up as a child of divorce, so my mom also had to do double duty as my father.

And it was tough for her.

Holding down a full-time job and being a full-time mother and father isn’t for the faint of heart.

So here’s to the single moms who find themselves doing the best they can in difficult situations.

On this Father’s Day, I’m praying for all the men who carry the weight and joy of fatherhood:

For the new dads feeling overwhelmed by the responsibility — may you find strength and wisdom for each day.

For the single fathers (and mothers) doing double duty — may you know that your sacrifices are seen and honored.

For the stepfathers building relationships with children who didn’t choose them — may patience and love create unbreakable bonds.

For the fathers of adult children watching their babies navigate the world independently — may you find peace in knowing you gave them roots and wings.

And for all the father figures who chose to love children not biologically their own — may you understand the profound impact of your choice.

Whether earthly or Heavenly, the best fathers share certain qualities: unconditional love, protective strength, gentle guidance, and unwavering presence.

They create safe conditions for growth, offer wisdom without judgment, and love their children not because they’re perfect, but because they’re theirs.

To every man reading this who strives to be this kind of father — thank you.

Your children may not always express it, but they notice every sacrifice, every moment of patience, every act of love. You’re shaping not just their childhood, but their entire understanding of how love looks.

And to my perfect Heavenly Father, Who showed me what unconditional love really means — thank You for never giving up on this prodigal daughter.

Thank You for being the Dad I always needed.