Sometimes it feels like Father’s Day is more about enshrining a myth than it is about facing the realities of fatherhood.

It can be a lonely time for those of us whose arms are empty.

Can I do it again? Do I even dare? Do I have the strength? Because the cradle might be empty—again.

My four-year-old daughter has taught me this lesson: when a child wants to derail Business As Usual— to curb the hubris of adults who dare believe in schedules and plans and productivity— one fierce little body and one clear, piercing voice, strategically applied to the right pressure point,...

I was a foster parent long before I was a mom, and an inside look at families "in the system" reveals pretty quickly that love and parenthood are two different qualities, and the relationship between them is neither straightforward nor guaranteed....

Let us listen deeply to what is on our hearts, Let us listen to what our fears are; Let us listen to the young children, Let us listen to the teens, Let us listen to the elders. Let us listen when the world is sick. Let us listen....

I believe in the radical idea that men have the full human capacity to nurture.

We recognize and honor today every dad who stood as their child shouted at them in anger or frustration. Every dad who tried to understand their child’s clothing choices, new hairdo, or new tattoo. Every dad who suddenly realized their child might be right and was willing to listen, and every dad...

I invite you into a period of quiet meditation. Close your eyes if you wish, and get comfortable in your seat. Think about the father-figure you carry in your heart. I invite you to remember the gifts and the wounds you received from that person or persons. If any feelings come up, just breathe...

On this Father’s Day, we recognize the vast spectrum of experience and the often-complicated feelings that surround such a celebration. We honor those fathers and father figures in our lives who have loved, supported, encouraged and instructed us, and we seek to share these gifts with others. We...

Let us tell the stories of mothers… stories that could be true. Let us tell of warm mothers, soft and round, likely to be found with flour on their nose, and always ready to pour you a glass of milk to go with the cookies on your plate. These mothers are increasingly rare. Let us tell of mothers...

She called to ask if I would baptize her infant son. I said, "What we do is like a baptism, but not exactly. And we normally do it only for people who are part of the church family. The next one we have scheduled is in May." She said, "Could we come to talk with you about it anyway?" They came to...

A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they are no more. ~ Matthew 2:18 I read those words aloud from the pulpit once a year, on Christmas Eve: a night when we celebrate the birth of hope and possibility and...

My wakeful nights are fewer now that my children are growing older. A recent event reminded me of what I am missing. After a tremendously exciting weekend in another state at a family celebration, my young son and I found that our sleep schedules were no longer in sync....

As I ride through Kandahar City’s Sub-District 9, I see a naked dust-covered kid playing along the road. That is not the strangest thing. But when he picks up a large rock and hurls it at the truck, I wonder aloud, “What the hell? Who lets their kid run around naked throwing rocks? What kind of...

My son has sent me a “Build-A-Bear.” Dressed in the latest digital camouflage ACUs.* (Build-A-Bear hasn’t yet caught up with multicam.) It came with a note in my eight-year-old’s handwriting: “Press left paw for I love you and I miss you.” Sure enough, when I press the left paw, my...

We invite each of you to take a deep breath into the present moment, and, realizing that not everyone will have the functions to enter into all of these movements, but grateful for the skills that we do have, we invite you, as you are willing and able, to participate in this interactive meditation.

When my youngest daughter was about two years old she came across a tattered paperback on our bookshelves, Ten Thousand Baby Names, and for a little while this was her favorite book. Drawn by the shining face of the baby on the cover, she brought it to me over and over and demanded that I read...

When my youngest child was a baby, the sweetest part of my day was putting David to sleep. At fifteen months he had a demanding schedule. There were toilet paper rolls to unravel, dressers to empty, bookshelves to clear, trash baskets to dump on the floor, papers to tear, pans to bang, books to...

Children widen the circle of our being in ways that are limitless. Every baby that’s born connects us to our history, our own parents, grandparents and unknown forbears who brought new life to the world in each successive generation. Every baby that’s born links us to the future, to a world yet...