Every parent is an artist, for the bared canvas of a newborn’s soul begs for the artist’s touch. And because this is so, a parent must prepare the palette with the utmost care, choose the brushes with poised caution, and mindfully attend to every brushstroke regardless of how slight. And such caution is utterly imperative for the emerging rendering will be both a legacy borne of the parent, and a life lived by the child.

It is when the house has fallen and the precious collections of my life lay in scattered ruins all around me that I suddenly realize that I built a whole lot of house, but I forgot to build any kind of foundation.

For if the nature of the story is such that my mother left me with deficits and scars, I can know that the nature of God is such that He will leave me blessings and health.

I might ask if I am a good Dad to the child within me, for all effective parenting begins there.

At the point that I can look into my children’s faces and say that my life is about their lives, I have finally come to the point that I can now start becoming a parent. And if I’ve not reached this point, I might be a parent by birth but it all ends there.

Each and every day take the time to tell your children the great people that they are so that they don’t grow up living each and every day thinking they’re the bad people that they’re not.

To my children I say, “Fall on me.” For what greater privilege has a parent than to be that place to fall in a world that is itself fallen?

Whether you’ve ever considered it or not, you’re an author. And the stories that you write are penned across the hearts of your children. Therefore, be careful with the pen because you’re writing on some very precious paper.

If I could be half of what my mother was, I’d be twice the man I am now.