Father Day (2021)

 

Dad knows best. Sometimes they really do. They see a need in their child, they become their rescuers. A father’s heart indeed beats with unconditional love. 

ST celebrates Father’s Day today with that theme. We have a father who gave up everything in 2014 for his son, Nathanael (Nat). Chris’ son was diagnosed with global developmental delay with low muscles tone. He researched about it and it was suggested that “living in a cool, temperate climate would be better” for Nat. 

So, Chris, who has a PhD in biology, uprooted to New Zealand with family, left a well paying job and sold his company, to care for his son full time. 

Chris said: “I made a choice: Should I be a millionaire and my son is bedridden, or should I be a poor man and my son can be perfectly fine? So I took the second option.”

Well, all that paid rich dividends for Chris. Nat is doing well. At 11 today, he has obtained a diploma in written music theory from Trinity College London’s music exam board and scored distinctions for some GCSE subjects. 

Another dad became a stay-home father for his children. He has been playing that role since 2008. He said it was the most rewarding time of his life; watching his children grow, bonding with them, as he ferried them to school in his bicycle. 

Nor Nizar Mohamed was in fact questioned for a such a move. One day, he recalled that he brought his son to play badminton. His friend asked, why he bring him over. “If you take care of him, what is your wife doing?” That was something he as a stay home dad has to deal with. 

Another dad was inspired by his own father to step up. Albert Lim’s father died when he was 33. He recalled his father fondly. Though a stoic man, he had a high sense of responsibility and was caring. “I miss his quiet caring touch unto my family.”

Albert is a volunteer with Families for Life, and a Life council member and board director at the Centre For Fathering. His own children are married and he has a granddaughter. It was a long journey of fatherhood for Albert and it is ongoing until you heave your last breath. 

Lesson? One. 

I recall E.M. Forster once said, "How do I know who I am until I see what I do?" That’s wise. 

We are defined by our actions, and I believe as fathers, we are also redeemed by them. Fatherhood is a redeeming journey. We take the first step by seeing ourselves in our child. 

We may think their struggles to crawl, to walk, and to talk differ from ours. We may think they are just beginning to live, while we are at a much later stage of that development. 

Yet, the reality is that their struggles are no different from ours. One is the birth of a life, the other, the birth of being a father. There is distinct newness on both sides as we cradle our child in our arms. We are both fragile in our own ways. The baby being nurtured and the father’s soul reformed through offering nurturance. 

And the redemption part comes when we gradually form our own identity with every step (or misstep) taken along the way. 

For that reason, both of us are learning. Both of us are growing. And both of us are adapting. That’s fatherhood, a mutually influencing and reinforcing journey from father to child, and from child to father. 

Let me end with the words of a Roman emperor, which for me describes fatherhood well.

"Some people, when they do someone a favor, are always looking for a chance to call it in. And some aren't, but they're still aware of it - still regard it as a debt. But others don't even do that. They're like a vine that produces grapes without looking for anything in return...after helping others...They just go on to something else...We should be like that." (Marcus Aurelius).

Fathers are like vines, and their labour of love asks for nothing in return; just the well-being of his child. And grapes when they are not ripe are sour, and father and child go through that journey a lot. There will surely be disappointments, stumbles and falls, even rebellion. 

That’s where the true testing comes, in line with what EM Foster said, “"How do I know who I am until I see what I do?" For when father and child overcome, one battle of growth after another, your vision of fatherhood comes into greater clarity; your identity as a father emerges from the overcoming. 

Before long, you will know who you really are, especially during such time when your child comes to you and says, “I love you, Dad.”

 

Caleb Tan and Pastor Philip Chan - Father to the Fatherless.

Caleb Tan, 46, never knew his own father. He said: “I didn’t know who my own father was. I had never experienced a father’s love.” 

He had a traumatic past. He had always felt he was born unloved. In the papers today, Lee Siew Hua reports: “(Caleb) had not only served time, but had also fled to the Philippines to escape court charges, divorced his first wife, a Filippina, and later attempted suicide.”

Caleb had also thought his mother was dead. But at 12, when he needed to apply for identity card, his grandmother (who was his sole caregiver) placed a newspaper advertisement to trace her. Caleb said: “I hated my mum a lot. Why did she give birth to me if she didn’t want me?”

Never knowing a father’s or mother’s love, Caleb spent his time in nightclubs. Before long, he was involved in fights and spent 10 years behind bars for drug dealing and other crimes. 

After he served his time, he made his way to The Hiding Place in 2010. It took some time for him to adjust and adapt. Life did not let up for him though. He later met with a serious accident and “suffered five broken ribs, a collapsed lung and burns on his body, after his short get entangled with a machine for food preparation.”

However, Caleb never gave up on life. He met Grace Sim, 46, who was working as a secretary in a church. They then married in 2018 and Grace came with two teenage sons, Jerel and Jerek (now 20 and 16). 

Imagine that, a father who had lived without a father, had to be a father to two young boys. And incidentally, today is Father’s Day and Caleb’s story is not like those familiar stories you often hear on this special day.

In fact, Caleb’s life in The Hiding Place took an unexpected turn when the late Pastor Philip Chan became a devoted father to him - as he was to many, who were drug addicts, gamblers, drinkers and wayward youth.

As Pastor Chan assured him that he would personally take care of him, in that short time, their relationship blossomed. Caleb later called him “Pa”. 

Caleb recalled that Pastor Chan gave him “unconditional love”. He also said that as a lost and struggling soul, just out of prison, Pastor Chan’s firm guidance was what he needed and had craved after. 

In 2018, before Caleb married Grace, Pastor Chan gave him this advice: “You are not marrying just Grace. She also has two sons. You have to be an example as a father.” Pastor Chan also said that he must spend time to talk and reason with Jerel and Jerek. He said: “Even if they’re your children, they have a right to talk.”

Lesson...?

Alas, in living, Pastor Chan became a father to the fatherless. He stepped up when their birth fathers walked out. And he gave them love when they neither knew love, nor the touch and hugs of a father. 

Not by genes, not by blood ties, but by love unconditional, love most transcending, beyond biology, that Pastor Chan stepped into the gap, and dedicated his life for them. 

Truly, there is no greater love than a man willing to lay his life down for another; that is, for a stranger to become a father, a father to a stranger. And that selfless love was more than enough for Caleb to love his sons in return. 

When Caleb asked his stepson, Jerel, for his blessing to marry his mother, Jerel said: “What took you so long?” And his older brother Jerek said: “I’m happy because I know you will take care of my mum.”

Caleb’s own path to fatherhood was a transforming one. He recalled: “In one tender episode, Jerek reached out to hold his hands on the way to the cinema. Shocked, (Caleb) instinctively felt like pushing it away. But in the next moment, his heart melted and he told himself: “It’s a blessing. This action was confirmation that he accepted me as a father.”

“Then in the cinema, the boy felt cold and snuggled against him, putting his head on his shoulder. “That’s a love I couldn’t have expected,” (Caleb) said.””

At times, Jerek would text him with this simple heartwarming message: “good night, love you.”

As a father myself, with three young kids, I have come to realise that you may have a hand in bringing a child into this world, but it is the journey you take with him that makes you their “Pa”. 

Every son born into this world is a father at heart. However he cannot do it alone because he needs a father before him to love him as his own, and as he is. The heart of father is like a candle, a flickering wick no less, and only the same candle can light it up so that the light of fatherhood can be passed down the line to their own children and to their children’s children. 

And the legacy of fatherhood goes beyond biological ties. It is founded on unconditional love, a love Pastor Chan exemplified so perfectly in his unfailing embrace of the broken, the vulnerable, and the disowned. 

Caleb himself experienced that love, from a man he affectionately called “Pa”. And that short journey with his pa had made all the difference for him and his sons, Jerel and Jerek. 

Let me end with what Caleb said. “I lost everything in the past. God has blessed me with a family.” And it is a family embraced and empowered by the sacred ministry of fatherhood, that is, of being a father to the fatherless, a lover to the unloved, and a candle of light against the darkness of abandonment. 

That, to me, is the timeless message on this Father’s Day. A message not only of hope, but one of enduring love.

Who says bringing up daughters is going to be easy?

Who says bringing up daughters is going to be easy? 

Last night, at the family dinner, I boo-boo’ed. We were discussing about a coming Bali trip and it involved climbing some mountain.

My daughter (14) was there too. She wanted to climb. We were briefed about taking a bus in the wee hours of the morning to start the ascend as early as 3 am, if not earlier. The goal was to catch the first light of day. 

Our group of amateur mountaineers was a mixed bag which included my daughter’s aunts, her older brother and her younger male cousin, together with our ever-muscular de facto guide, whom the kids lovingly addressed as uncle Raveen. 

For those physically fit, we were told that it would take 2 hours to reach the top. For those less fit, it would take 4 at least. So, there was a perceived sense of urgency to make it up on time to enjoy the first rise of the day. 

My concern at that time was whether my daughter will drag the team behind. I feared she would take extra rests and deprive the group of catching the first light. So, that was where I found my foot in my mouth - not a rare occurrence in our weekly family dinner mind you. 

I said in jest, “So Jerica, you are the weakest link, you think you are up to it?”

Ouch! That was it. That was all it took and I could taste the sole in my gums immediately after I said it. It was not my “best moments” with my daughter and we had quite a few of those moments of jest and laughters. This moment was however a big minus in our father/daughter relation. 

You know the boos and jeers that Trump got in the World Series and UFC at Madison Square? Well, I got mine (deservingly) from the other family members, especially the aunts and yes, the mom. 

As Jerica’s head was lying on her folded arms on the table, Anna turned to me and gesticulated like she was warning me of a coming tsunami wave. At one point, I could have sworn I saw her inviting me to a UFC smackdown. 

So, there it is, a daughter lost and a father in remorse. As the briefing went on, all I could hear was her broken heart and mine too both for the same reason - what I’d said, the unfiltered words. 

And coming back full circle, yes, it is not easy bringing up daughters. I have two young ones. 

Sometimes, you disappoint yourself much more than they can disappoint you. And as a father, the onus is on me to lead the way, both in deeds and, well, words. The age gap of a few decades ought to have made that obvious enough, right? 

And well, truth be told, I am never too good with words that come out of the mouth, and I was hoping the words that come out of my hand (or fingers) can make it up here. Incidentally, the lesson this morning has become...me.

So after the briefing, I went to find Jerica but she had gone to the toilet. I could hear some sniffing and water running and I decided to give her some space. 

That night, while driving the family home, I broke the dead silence to apologise to her. I told her daddy is quite a monstrous work in progress. I told her I am sorry to let the tongue loose, unmoored from the brain and heart. 

I was actually expecting a hailstorm from her. I was in fact all Kevlar-up for a combat round of oral ammunition. How shortsighted of me.

And what surprised me was her reply. She said, “it’s okay dad. I understand.” 

Although I was not going to take it for granted and let go, (i thot of explaining further with, yes, words), I however decided there and then to let it go. For me, I think the last thing to say is to say anything. That was also the moment I had the last taste of the shoe in my mouth. 

We then drove home in the silence of the night. And while the Christian music was playing in the background, I thought a little about parenthood, about fatherhood. 

There are many moments where we as fathers hold their tiny little hands to cross the road, to assure them to take the first step, to encourage them in the first day of school, and to give them the confidence coming from our unconditional love for them. 

Alas, one day, I will have to let the same tiny little hands go and trust that the other love of her life will continue this undying father’s heartbeat for her. 

But one thing I can count as a blessing is that such moments also include times when I sit by her side and learn from her. And that moment when she said, “it’s okay dad, I understand” was that moment in question. It was the moment when the roles were reversed, that is, the child grew up and the father woke up (that night, she held my hands). 

Maybe, I have done something right along the messy road of fatherhood to have deserved a taste of those moments when iron indeed sharpens iron, regardless of the age gap.

William Wan: Life is good.

William Wan shared about his descendants in the papers today. It’s a big family. Three tiers in fact. 

He was recently in US to celebrate his granddaughter’s birthday and in Canada to attend his grandson’s graduation from university. 

If you are counting, he and his wife have three children and their children have children of their own. As they have been living apart for the last twenty years, William said that such reunions are rare and dearly treasured. 

In a nutshell, he wrote about what a father has learnt from his children. 

Firstly, he said that he is a fumbling imperfect father. Growing up, his children often came to him to tell him that he spent too much time in his work as a lawyer and a pastor. He said if he would do it all over again, he would spend more time with them. 

Secondly, he regretted that he “had uprooted them more than once in their growing-up years and was not sensitive enough to realise the negative effects on the kids’ sense of security, not having their dad to themselves.” 

This second lesson comes under the reflection “In my passion to serve others, I had spread myself too thin.”

Thirdly, by any standards, William’s children did well in life. 

His eldest (Li-Ann) and her husband left their well-paying jobs to join a non-profit organization to support mission groups. His second child (Li-Lynn) “earned her doctorate, joined the university and then left to be a full-time self-employer potter.” 

And his son, a psychiatrist, left a “well-known hospital to chart his own course in private practice.” 

William wrote that they all have his DNA to start their own businesses, be their own boss. 

Fourthly, his children learned from his life as a father, both the positive and negative aspects. 

On the positive side, they learnt to be others-centred, giving to others, like their dad. On the negative side, they learnt “not to be like him,” busily serving others and spending less time with the children.

And lastly, William said that his kids were “very magnanimous” to him. He wrote this: “it is very gratifying to be assured that they have forgiven me and love me all the same despite my many failures”. 

He recalled that at his 70th birthday celebration, Li-Lynn told her siblings this: -

“Throughout our childhood, our home was always full of people. At Christmas, my father would invite anyone he came across, who didn’t have a place to go...and take in and care for anyone who needed a place to stay - for a meal, for a week, sometimes months, sometimes even longer.”

Lesson? I think by any standards William had lived a relatively fruitful and enriching life for himself, for his marriage, and for his children. He wrote this conclusion: -

“I am truly grateful to be a father of these children. I have learnt much from them and am very proud to be their father. We do become better parents and better people if we are willing to learn from our children.”

In his life, I suppose you see the timeless principle of sowing and reap at work. 

Now, in his early seventies, William is physically active, writing books, giving back to his pastoral flock and community, having reared up three well-grounded, down-to-earth children with families of their own, generally doing well themselves, and doing what he loves, with a supportive and resilient marriage to boot. 

I guess, that’s what a good life looks like? 

This of course does not come without perseverance, hope, faith and love. But when the harvest comes in its own season, the generous reaping is as fulfilling and empowering as the faithful sowing. 

When you look back, sitting with your wife at the summit of your golden sunset, you finally get to see clearly how each and every step in the right direction (despite the relentless pull of gravity to take the convenient and easy pathway) makes sense as the full picture comes to glorious view.

Alas, not all of us will arrive at the same mountain peak as that of William’s. 

Our mountain may take longer to scale. Along the climb, we may have lost loved ones, mourning over their passing with incomprehensible grief as we take the load with us in our perseverance to scale our own mountain. 

Some of us start the climb alone. We come from broken families, never truly experiencing a father’s love and presence. Yet, we make it nevertheless with children of our own.

Others start the climb and give up mid-way. They then start all over, and over and over again because society seldom give them the break they desperately crave after. The grim reality is, they end their lives not at the peak, but at the valley. 

Alas, we all want to hear good stories, ending well, or victoriously, and long to follow the principles such stories aim to impart. 

William’s life and its sowing and reaping principle are good narration of how to live a fruitful life. And the harvest towards the end is the summation of one’s persevering efforts.

While reading them may inspire, yet it is the choices we make here and now that determine our life’s trajectory. And while we all look for that feel-good moment to take the first step or to continue forward, it is often how we overcome the feeling-bad moments that transform us the most, if not the deepest. 

Nothing grows at the summit. It is at the valley that the trees grow strong and tall. It is a story of overcoming, and everyone of us, if not most of us, has to start at the valley of brokenness - and for some, at the valley of second and third chances - to make that climb to the top. 

And while our summits may be different from William’s, yet at the tail-end of a journey of hope, faith and love, the resonating fulfilment from within is always the same, and deeply felt.

A father Bully.

“Just because you are bigger in size, you can bully others. Since you can bully my son, I can bully you.”

That’s a 43-year-old, adjunct teacher, telling a 10-year-old classmate of his son off. Here is the backdrop as reported. 

“After lessons ended on July 7, 2017, the boy was walking towards a gate at his school in the northern part of Singapore when Tan (the boy’s father) confronted him.”

“He grabbed the boy’s bag handle, causing him to move backward, and push him to a nearby rubbish shed. The victim was pushed onto a wall while the accused scolded the victim.” 

That’s where he talked about bigger size and issue a bully’s threat on the school bully. 

“The victim sought medical treatment around 9:30 pm that day and was discharged about two hours later.”

Tan “pleaded guilty to an assault charge yesterday and was sentenced to seven weeks’ jail.” Maybe two bullies does not a right make?

In mitigation, Tan’s lawyer said that his son was bullied by the young bully every day since early 2017. The boy would push Tan’s son and abuse him with vulgarities. 

His lawyer Cory Wong said: “Mr Tan had previously gone to the relevant school teacher to report the bullying but, alas, nothing concrete had materialised from his reports.”

“Tan was instead told that the victim had anger management issues, and felt that his concerns were being brushed aside. True enough, the school remained ineffective in doing anything to stop the bullying.”

So, from Tan’s account, he said that near the school gate, he “tried to verbally engage with the victim, but the victim had very cockily ignored him.”

“In the heat of the moment, and being a loving father who would staunchly protect his son’s interests, the above drove Mr Tan to act out of character.”

For all that, Tan was convicted and sentenced to 7 weeks’ jail. His lawyers had asked for a fine. 

Lesson? Well, the lesson here is about thinking and/or acting “out of character”. 

Trust me, when pushed to a corner, when the torment becomes unbearable, we all break. 

Some break and end up with self-destructive results. Some handle it with an emergency level of self-restraint, thereby confining the damage within limited impact. 

Either way, you can be sure that acting with reason is always the first to be let go when we break. 

In any event, I trust Tan as a loving father and an adjunct teacher at that time has learned his lesson.

Although he said it was not premeditated (as he had gone to school to pick up his son that day), I felt that it was nevertheless preventable. And it is more so in this particular situation since Tan was an educator in his own rights and he ought to have been exposed to similar situations. I even figure that he might have handled such situation before with other unruly kids. 

But I guess when it comes to your own son, things can turn out to be less idealistic and arm-length to more visceral and blood boil. That accounts for him acting out of character. 

Here, I recall a time when our son came to us and told us that he had been bullied by a bigger boy in his primary school. My wife then went over to the school and reported the bully. The school told us they will monitor the situation. We told our son about it and we left it as it is. 

As our son did not feedback to us after that, we thought all was well with him. However, in our weekly sharing as a family (many years later), we talked about it, and he shared that the bully still carried on his demeaning ways for some time after we reported him to the school. 

We asked him why he didn’t tell us, he replied that he did not see a point. The school could not do anything about it. We can’t be there for him all the time. He said he might as well adapt and avoid the bully until he finds another target. They often do after some time when the fun and novelty dry up.

That led me to reflect about the raw reality of being bullied. My daughters experienced it. I experienced it. Even when we become adults, working in the office, we may at times become target of bullies. 

No doubt we have to stand up to them. Report them, draw the line, challenge them, and let them know we are not afraid of them. But at times, things are more complicated than that. Not all bullies get the just desserts they deserve. 

At times, things do not change and we have to change. We have to adapt and keep a distance. We have to walk away and leave it behind us. We have to find our own resolution and go forward with our own life.

I believe it is an impractical and imprudent advice to tell our children that they must always expect the world to bend to their expectation or their sense of justice. 

Sometimes, it is about retreating to confront another day. Sometimes it is about accepting that it is not your fight. And sometimes it is about going all the way. 

Most times, it is a judgment call, and I am glad my son dealt with his situation in the best way he knew how then. It may not be ideal to some. But he is nevertheless able to move on with it and I believe pick his own fight when the time for him is ripe.