A while ago I had a conversation with an 8 year old child that simply broke and melted my heart. It was a conversation about her not feeling wanted and loved by her dad. She thought she was the seeming unimportant pawn in the chess match of her mother and father’s divorce and animosity toward each other. For whatever reason, her dad refuses to spend time with her (Can someone please help me with this? I simply don’t understand).

I tried to assure her that no dad would intentionally not spend time with his children, especially his daughter. She didn’t seem to buy what I was selling. Shoot! I didn’t even buy what I was selling, because I have witnessed plenty of deadbeat dads  who simply refuse to spend time with their children, and then turn around and say that they love their kids. In my mind, the two cannot be reconciled, plain and simple. I can only surmise that either they don’t love their kids or they love themselves more than they love their kids. Both are an abdication of their responsibility as a father and devastating for the child.

Anyway, I asked her if she was angry with her dad. She assured me that she was not. “All I want is to see and spend time with my dad.” she whimpered. It took everything in me to keep it together. At that moment I realized something: little girls need and want their daddies. Even if the super hero cape has been marred by broken promises and unintentional or intentional negligence, little girls need and want their daddies. Little girls need and want their daddies to be fully present with them, to hold their hands as they cross the street, to tuck them in at night, to study spelling words with them, to wipe their tears away, to protect them from danger (especially knucklehead boys), to buy them ice cream and take them to the bookstore, to listen intently to their repeated ramblings about their day, to be honest and ask forgiveness, to assure them that God is big and strong, to remind them that God listens to their whimpers and can interpret their tears, to buy them what they need and surprise them with what they want, to model what a godly man is and should be, and to one day, with confidence, give their hand to a man who will take as much care to love them as we have. I wrote this last paragraph with tears streaming down my face. Why? Because I have a little girl, and when we walk down the street together, holding hands, or when she sits in my lap or asks me to give her a horseback ride to her bed, I know that my little girl needs and wants . . . her daddy.