Friday Thought : Grace Deserved

My wife has been out of state this week, taking care of our nieces and nephews. Which means, for a short stretch, I’ve been a single dad.

And the results have been… predictable.

Meals have been bland and sometimes cold cereal. 
Mornings have been late and rushed.
And by 8:30 p.m., I’m usually passed out between my two youngest - still in my work clothes.

Being a single parent is rough.
And I’ve only been doing it for a week! With a steady job, stable schedule, and support from my mother-in-law.

In this small window, as always happens when my wife is gone, something shifts in me. A deeper appreciation grows for the parents who carry this load every single day - without the margin, without the help, without the breathing room I take for granted.

They don’t get slow mornings.
They don’t get quiet opportunities for me-time.
They don’t get to put their own needs anywhere near the top of the list.

And I can only imagine how this exhaustion trickles down into the little hearts and minds they love and care for so much. I felt it in my own house. I wasn’t as patient as I wanted to be. I wasn’t as fun as I intended to be. And I was absolutely more underprepared than I needed to be.

This week gave me a great deal of empathy for the single parents in our building and community - and for their children.

For the kid struggling with homework because Mom or Dad simply didn’t have the time or mental capacity to sit with them.
For the little one who didn’t share how their feelings were hurt today, afraid to add too much to Mom or Dad’s already-full plate, and is now trying to handle it alone.
For the mom or dad giving absolutely everything they have and could use even a small moment of grace, applause, or understanding.

I haven’t been at my best since my wife left. Not even close.
But I have been convicted - convicted about empathy toward others, grace toward others, and a desire to understand the actions, reactions, and decisions of others rather than defend against them, argue with them, or - most embarrassingly - smugly judge them.

Sometimes being stretched reminds us how much grace others deserve. And I have not been giving near enough grace to others.

Anyway, that’s what I’ve been thinking about this week. Grace. 

Friday Thought : Be Dad. Be You.

Last weekend, I took my son on a college visit, and it was awesome — good food, good experiences, time away, and time together.
The only problem? I forgot my book (ugh!). So, I picked one up: The #1 Dad Book: The Best Dad You Can Be in 1 Hour.

Not exactly life-changing, but it reminded me of something important:

Buying a book about being a better dad (or teacher, or spouse) doesn’t make you great — the desire to grow does.

That simple act of wanting to improve means more than the best-laid plans of how to improve.

I’m not the world’s best dad, but I’m a good one. Which is why it hurts when someone questions it — when intention gets misunderstood.

And the same is true in education.

Recently, I was accused of something that wasn’t true. What stung wasn’t the accusation itself, but the assumption behind it. For a moment, I let it change me. I pulled back. I played it safe. I lost a bit of confidence — and with it, my joy.

Fear will do that. It steals joy.

And I didn’t like it. Not for me, but for others too. Some even noticed — they asked why I wasn’t being me. And that stung most of all.

So here’s my reminder to all of us: Don’t shrink because someone misreads your heart.
Keep doing the good, hard, imperfect work you believe in. Mistakes don’t make you less — they make you real.

Be bold in your trying.
Be confident in your caring.
Be who your kids, your students, and your staff need you to be.

Because we need you to be you, in all of your faults, gifts, and human glory. 100%.

Friday Thought : Things that Can't Wait

This week I had the privilege of helping two families in the middle of hard seasons.

One—a brother and sister as they packed up their parents’ home. Both passed of them past in the last year, and now, their children are trying to work through what has been left behind. Every box, every piece of furniture seemed to carry a story, and some of them were too heavy to name. You could feel it in the silence between them, the long pauses as they decided what to keep, what to let go. How can any of it be called trash? What is the price of Dad’s favorite chair, of Mom’s knick-knacks?

The other—a couple who just received news no one ever wants to hear. With their time together now feeling shorter than it should, they’re finally finishing projects and planning the bucket-list trip they’ve been putting off “until things settled down.” The wife - the mother - is the sweetest lady. She loves her family and is never shy of sharing a kind word. Amid the tears, she smiles, laughs, and hopes.

And it was all very sobering.

This work—hauling, cleaning, sorting—does more than tire my body. It works on my heart.
In moments like these, I have a unique opportunity to see, and be reminded of, what truly matters.
And what doesn’t.

It’s easy to spend the drive home in reflection, and wonder . . . how many of us are still putting off the things that really matter?

We convince ourselves there’s plenty of time. That someday we’ll get around to it. But someday is fragile.

The words left unsaid.
The trip we keep dreaming about but never book.
The quiet dinner without the phones.
The porch swing at sunset.
The apology that’s overdue.
The hug we’ve been meaning to give.
The time with our kids before they grow up and leave.

Not everything can wait.

And maybe that’s the gift of this work: the reminder to take stock now. To say what needs to be said. To do what needs to be done. To love the people we love, while we still have the chance to love them well.

Because “someday” is already here. Probably more than we, than I, would like to admit.

That's what I've been thinking about this week.