Thanks for bringing to this male’s soul, a message that helps to cope with the feeling of
not being appreciated and sometimes misunderstood for trying to be helpful and caring with the ones you interact. @mf
Last week marked twenty five years since I lost my father. It was just after I turned eighteen, barely an adult. And it left me heartbroken, confused, unprotected, and alone. I felt, though failed to fully understand at the time, that his absence created this hollow space around me—a void where his strength and guidance should have been. And in that silence, some people saw an opening. It became easier for them to manipulate me, to diminish me, to cross lines that my father’s presence alone might have guarded against
And while I have fought my way through those years, becoming stronger, wiser, and more self-reliant, I carry with me a deepened respect for what it means to have good men around. Not perfect men. Not always gentle. But strong, steady, and decent.
It’s taken me years—and moving far from the city—to really understand what men have built for us. What they’ve endured. What they’ve carried. What they’ve protected.
Out here, in the quiet stretch of land I now call home, I’ve had to confront things most urban lives cushion you from, things I had never really thought about before. Things like: Rodents and venomous snakes that have to be dealt with. Livestock that must be fed and cleaned up after and protected from predators. Heat that has to be produced. Water that has to be acquired. But, also, water that has to be stopped. Tools and equipment that has to be repaired. Dead trees that must be chopped down, chopped up, and stored or hauled away. Heavy things that must be moved. Roads that need to be smoothed or even created. And predators of all kinds who need to be kept away. These necessities don’t care about your feelings or how tired you are or what time of day it is. These are the harsh realities of life and nature.
We have a kind of joke we make out here. It’s the saying- “you’ve got to work, to work.”Meaning - it’s not as straightforward as just accomplishing whatever task is at hand because inevitably there’s something else that is needed first in order to get to that task. You want to cut up some wood, well guess what… first you’ve gotta unclog the carburetor on your chainsaw, or change the spark plug, or make the fuel mixture. You want to take a shower? Sure, simple enough, right? No, not quite because for some reason the well pump isn’t working. You want to cook some dinner? Ok, fine, except… wait, the propane is empty, or maybe its the regulator that has to be fixed. The phone book isn’t helpful— there’s no one to call. So, if you want to survive, then you have to just figure it out.
There are days I’ve stood alone, wrench in hand, ankle-deep in mud or grease or snow, exhausted and frustrated and thought—how did they do it? The men who came before us. The men who built the roads, wired the power lines, raised the beams. The men who stayed up all night fixing what broke, who went without so their families could eat. The men who walked into battlefields or down into mines or into burning buildings without ever needing to be asked or even thanked.
We don’t talk enough about those men anymore.
We’ve grown too accustomed to caricatures and criticisms. We pick apart their flaws, mock their struggles, and ignore the burdens they quietly shoulder. But strength like that—unyielding, gritty, and determined—is valuable. And I didn’t truly see it until I had to become strong myself.
I see now how much I needed my father, even long after he was gone. I see now how much safety and confidence a good man brings to the people around him. I see now that masculinity, real masculinity, sacred masculinity is not toxic. It’s protective. It’s courageous. It’s sacrificial.
And I want to say this, plainly: to the fathers, the brothers, the sons, the men who are trying—thank you. We see you. We need you. We don’t say it enough.
We need men who are builders—not just of homes and fences, but of character and community. We need men who offer their hands—not just in labor, but in fathering the fatherless, mentoring the unmentored, standing up where others shrink back.
We need men who are protectors—not because we’re weak, but because the world is dangerous, and your courage steadies ours.
We need you, men—not just on some special day, or when things fall apart—but every day. Your presence matters. Your strength matters. Your steadiness matters. Your sacrifice matters.
So today I honor my father, who I still miss every single day. And I honor the men like him—the quiet heroes who make the world work, often without praise, often without rest, often without asking for anything in return.
May we build a world where men are not only held accountable—but honored for that accountability too. Where their strength is not feared, but trusted. Where young women like I once was are never left unguarded. And where the men in our lives know how deeply they matter—not just when they’re here, but even when they’re gone.
To all the men out there who step up to the challenges and burdens that are uniquely faced by them— you are loved and appreciated and needed and I pray society remembers that about you because you deserve to be told how important you are.
Thank you for everything you do for us and for the world. We are proud of you, we respect you, and we honor you.
Amen.
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