The definition of a father is different for everyone. For some, he’s the guy who fixes things and protector of the home. To others, he’s master of the camping trip and killer of bedtime monsters. And to some, perhaps their father is a monster himself. Like most things in life, no one shape or color defines who or what a father is.

I am the father of two girls, five and six years old, and if you asked them what kind of dad I am, I’m not really sure what sort of answer you’d get. Perhaps it depends on the day. That’s something I need to work on. My opinion is that a father, if nothing else, should be dependable. If the wife and mother of the family is the glue, the father should be the rock on which everyone stands.

Are you a father? When is the last time you felt like a rock? If so, are you a rock tied to the ankles of your family members or are you strong and dependable; the confidence on which they stand?

I don’t mean to preach, in fact I swore I would take the weekend off, but sometimes I think we go so wrapped up in the commercial side of things that we forget what days like this are for. Fathers are not perfect. Our skin may be thick, our words terse, and our hands strong, but our egos are fragile. We screw up–all the time–but understand that we enjoy the battle scars we earn in the fight for the happiness and pride of our families.

Here’s an example. While trying to fix my car with my grandfather yesterday, my wife walks over and tells me the plumbing under the sink had just collapsed. I wasn’t happy. While my grandfather and I finished up on the car, my wife and grandmother looked under the sink. They swore I wouldn’t be able to fix it, even though after close inspection I was confident that I could. Their doubts are reasonable as I’m not exactly known for my repair skills, but I wanted a chance to prove myself. By the time I’d made up my mind to take a stab at the sink, my grandmother had already called the plumber. As fate would have it, the guy was out-of-town. I moved in on my chance to fix the problem and drove to the hardware store. $1.99 later I came home with the part, tampered with the tangle of pipes and about half an hour later, bam, sink fixed.

I gave my grandmother a healthy, “I told you so,” the next time I saw here. The point is that yeah, a plumber would have had more experience for the job, but as a man and father there is a certain measure of pride lost when someone else has to fix your problems. All I did was fix a sink, but I was glowing afterward knowing I had done the job.

This is what I think your dads would like you to honor them for this weekend: the little things he may have done to make your life more secure and sound. Most of us don’t want or need gifts, in fact, if your dad is like me, the idea of gifts is embarrassing. But I’ll tell you what…if you really want to make your dad glow, casually recall something he’s done for you–something small or seemingly insignificant–and tell him thank you. We like knowing we’d done well and that you’re proud of him, because we don’t always have the chance to know.

Perhaps your mother or even God is the only father figure you’ve ever known. If that the case, this day (and every day) is one in which to honor them as well.

On the other hand, my kids gave me the first season of Through the Wormhole with Morgan Freeman as a Father’s Day gift, and that ain’t bad either.

To all the father’s in our Congregation, thanks, and happy Father’s Day.