Father’s Day has come and gone. I have been thinking a lot about being a father the past couple of weeks. The question I have asked myself is: When does the son take on the father role? At the age of 31, I still view myself as a teenager bumbling his way through life, not knowing how to handle certain situations.

As a young boy growing up, I always looked at my father as someone who had all the answers. Someone who knew what to do in all situations. Someone who never worried or doubted his decisions. Someone who could fix a toy, take a splinter out of my finger, or repair a car.

I never thought that my father might have his doubts. In fact if I would have know this growing up, I might not have felt as secure as I did in my childhood.

Now that I am a father to Caleb and Connor, I am the one who “knows all the answers, and is sure of himself at all times.” Hah!! Now that’s a good one! But guess what? That is how Caleb and Connor view me. It was a like a flash of lightning struck my consciousness. My father had the same doubts and concerns that I have now. He didn’t show it, and I didn’t know it.

There have been many times when I didn’t have an answer, but I remember one incident especially. A time when I let despair wash it’s cold wave over me.

It was a few weeks before my second son, Connor was born, and something came up that I had no idea how to handle. Exactly what happened is a story for another time, but know that it was most likely the hardest thing I have ever had to deal with in my life. I was faced with the possibility that I might never be able to work the problem out.

I can’t even begin to describe how it felt. Yes, I can. I felt as if my head had been slammed face first into an ice-cold brick wall: repeatedly. And then it felt as if a huge boulder had been placed on my chest, and a serrated butcher knife was being slowly twisted into my back. Oh yeah, there was the burning bile that rose in my throat, and the feeling that I might vomit at any time.

Years of dealing with this problem had come to a head. All the doubts and fears that I wasn’t doing the right thing. All the times I wept bitterly over what to do. All the prayers asking God, and mentors in my life for help and guidance.

And even the times I asked God why? Why God? Why did this have to happen? It all came crashing over me in one huge tidal wave and I lost it.

My wife called work and told them I wouldn’t be in that night, and I went down in the basement into my video room and collapsed in a heap. I wept as I have never wept before. I cried for nearly half an hour as I poured my heart out to God seeking answers.

It was then that I heard a soft voice at the door. “Daddy? You OK?” The door slowly opened and there stood Caleb who was about a month shy of his third birthday. I didn’t know what to do. Do I let my boy see me like this? Do I shove the hurt and pain down inside and hide my feelings? I tried, but I couldn’t. A fresh wave of sorrow billowed over me as I struggled with my indecision.

Caleb walked slowly over to me and sat down on the floor next to me. I tried so hard to be “strong” and not let him see me like this, but try as I might I couldn’t stop crying. He slowly reached his chubby little hand up and started stroking my cheek. “It’s OK daddy. It’s OK.”

My heart wanted to burst.

“Don’t cry daddy. “It’s OK.”

I grabbed my son and hugged him close to my chest and we sat there and rocked on the floor for the longest time.

Then he looked up at me and said, “Love you daddy. I’m going to go play with my animals now.”

I kissed his rosy little cheek and out the door he went.

That night was a turning point for me. The unnamed problem is still there, but I know now that I have done everything that I could possibly do to rectify it. I have totally given it over to my heavenly Father, who does have all the answers.

Now, as I go through my daily life, I realize that I am not going to have all the answers, or even the questions for that matter. I will be strong when I need to be, and I will be a solid foundation for my kids to build their lives on through the help of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. But I will always remember the day when my three year old son lent me his strength through his touch and his simple words.

The day I realized that being strong sometimes means showing your weakness.

Michael T. Powers