One of the things that frightened me most about getting divorced was the lack of a father figure in our home. I know I can accomplish a lot as a competent mother- but I also know, for both my sons and for my daughter, having a healthy idea of what a man is and does is vitally important. And this is something, no matter how good a mother I might be, I cannot provide.
Last night was our ward father/son campout, (as it was many places), commemorating the restoration of the Aaronic priesthood on May 15, 1829. For my boys, this announcement last Sunday was the first of many small, bumpy reminders that we are a different shaped family. My children are tender, the edges of their small lives are a little raw from what has happened to them the last year- and it’s never far from their awareness that their father is absent. They need to be handled with some care.