Last year, I wrote a blog post called Choose the Guy Who Will Build You a Bridge.
It was about my dad.
And my husband.
And all the men who look at a problem and think, "I can figure that out."
Maybe it’s a bridge.
Maybe it’s a sign.
Maybe it’s a broken gate, a leaky faucet, a fence that blew over in the wind, or a project nobody else wants to tackle.
The point wasn't really the bridge.
The point was that some people show up.
This week I was reminded of that again.
I had one of those long workdays where you're tired clear through your bones. The kind of day where all you want is a shower and bed (and chocolate and my dog).
Instead, I put on a blanket coat, added a little lipstick, and drove into town.
Chris, my husband, was playing music nearby. He didn't know I was coming.
I slipped in during the middle of one of his songs and got to watch his reaction.
It was worth staying awake for.
Especially because he'd already spent most of the day showing up for me.
Not in some grand movie-worthy way.
Just in all the ways that matter.
Helping.
Solving problems.
Taking care of things.
Making my life easier.
Being the kind of partner I've counted on for years.
As Father's Day approaches, I've been thinking about that a lot.
Every year we take the same river trip with several families we've known since our children were little. We went to church together. Raised our kids together. Sat through baseball games, school programs, graduations, and all the ordinary moments that eventually become a life.
The trips have changed.
We've graduated from squeezing multiple families into cabins, cooking hot dogs, and wrestling life jackets onto little kids to an easier trip. These days the accommodations are nicer and the kids are now adults.
But one thing hasn't changed.
The men.
The husbands.
The fathers.
Every single one of them would build me a bridge if I needed one.
Not because they know how.
Because they would figure it out.
The same way they would figure it out for their wives.
The same way they would figure it out for their children.
The same way they've spent decades quietly showing up for the people they love.
I've realized that's what I admire most.
Capability is impressive.
Character is better.
A lot of people can build things.
Fewer people consistently show up.
And whether it's a bridge, a sign, a family, a friendship, a business, or a life together, the people worth holding onto are usually the ones willing to do both.
So here's to the dads.
The husbands.
The fixers.
The builders.
The problem-solvers.
The men who don't always get credit for the thousand small ways they make life work.
They've set the bar pretty high. And for that, I'm grateful.
