Writing Your Own Eulogy (Guest Blog by Armin Assadi)

Armin is a man I admire greatly—as a leader and especially as a father. It’s my great honor to have him joining us today as he describes a current process that is “wrecking him in the best of ways.”
Prepare to have your heart inspired by the vulnerability of my friend. 
—Michelle

If you haven’t heard Stephen Covey’s maxim, “Begin with the end in mind” from his best-selling book, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, then this is a mental exercise just for you. Even if you have, I promise you, this is something as a father you want to do.
 
Your daughters will thank me.

Now don’t just skim through this. Try this. Imagine a funeral.
 
Envision the church or venue it’s being held in. What’s the outside look like? What’s the inside look like? Imagine what kind of music they’re playing. Look around and see all the people dressed in black filling the seats. Some are there to simply show their respect. Others are heartbroken, crying and grieving the loss of a loved one. 
 
At the front of the room sits a casket, surrounded by beautiful white flowers. You can smell the roses and lilies. The volume of the music goes down and you see someone stand up. Look closer. It’s your daughter and she’s making her way up to the podium to speak. She has tears streaming down her face as she looks at the coffin. You look inside the coffin and realize the person in the coffin is you and this is your funeral. 
 
Take it one step further. Look around the room from the standpoint of the podium. Who is in the room and filling those seats? Is it just family? Are there friends present? Co-workers? Now turn those people into the people you imagine would be at your funeral. 
 
Pause here for a second. 
 
This is what Stephen Covey meant by “begin with the end in mind.” 
He meant THE end. Death. 
 
If you’ve never done this exercise before, it feels weird, if not morbid. Even if it does, keep going. I promise you, it’s worth it. 
 
Back to the funeral. You see your daughter look around the room before she gets ready to speak. She wipes away her tears, composes herself the best she can. She clears her throat and begins to speak about her father…you.
 
This is where you come in. Since you’re not dead yet, you get to write your eulogy, the very one that your daughter is going to read at your funeral.
 
What do you imagine her saying? What do you want your daughter to say about you? What kind of father will she say you were? Husband? Leader? What will she say about the impact you made? Or the lives you touched? 
 
Don’t just think about what you’ve done so far or who you’ve been so far. Dream a little. It’s okay to be idealistic. Write down everything you would hope for your daughter say about you. Even if you know you can’t do all of it or even half of it. It doesn’t matter. Just write it down. 
 
Be a superhero or whatever you want to be. 
 
I share my eulogy at the end of this article. You don’t have to read it. Use it as a template or skip it altogether. It’s just here. If you read it, you’ll see I didn’t try to perfect it, make it eloquent or even poetic. All the grammatical errors will prove my point. I wrote it for me. I didn’t write it to get a good grade from my English teacher or to impress my friends and colleagues. I wrote it so that I can see what I ultimately value as a father. So that I can see what I want my life to add up to in the end. I see it as a guide or compass. 
 
If you’re wondering why begin with the end in mind, here is why for me. 
 
Not only has it helped me be successful with projects, goals, business, and ministry, it’s helped provide clarity. No matter what, you’re going to be active every day. Why not be active in a way that allows you to know that you’re actively taking steps that are leading you to an end destination of your choice? 
 
John Wooden stated it best when he said, “don’t mistake activity for achievement.” 

Beginning with the end in mind will help you know whether the activities of your life are leading you to the achievements you desire and want from life. 
 
This isn’t going to be easy or even come naturally, but it will come to you. You will begin dreaming, envisioning, and writing. Your heart and soul will pour out on paper. And in doing so, you will unleash a furious love from within you.
 
It will help you see the depth and power of your love for the girls in your life. More importantly, this will give you a way to create a strategy and a culture within your own family that truly aligns with your deep and real values. Not your resume values. 
 
I hope to see what you write someday and be inspired by it. God speed, good luck, and many blessings.
 
Armin

My Eulogy I’ve Written For My Daughters:

It may be weird to start my dad’s eulogy like this, but if you knew him at all, you’d know this is appropriate. My dad was a shameless man. He knew what he wanted in life and didn’t care what anybody else thought. He didn’t care how he was judged, frowned upon or talked about behind his back.

My dad taught us that, “if you’re going to be a person of faith, then you have to be a person who keeps your word.”

One of the promises he made to us was, “My promise to you is this: I will always prioritize God first, family second, and everything else comes after and the order should never change.” You know what, he really did live that out. If you didn’t know my dad, let me help you understand what I mean by that.

It's no secret that my dad had a hot temper at times. In his younger days, he took his anger out on people closest to him. Once he had us, he made a commitment that if he was going to lose his temper on anyone, it wouldn't be on his girls. Countless times I’ve heard my dad say, “I’m willing to fail at business, leadership, ministry and everything else, I’m just not willing to fail at being a husband, father, and son of God.”

My dad never missed a date night with me or my sister. He never missed a date night with my mom. He didn't just tell us, he showed us how much he loved our mom to set an example for us. He made sure that we knew anything less than a man going out of his way to love you is unacceptable and that my dad would never, ever want to meet someone who treated us any less than he did. Not if this guy wanted one of his girls!

My dad was a serious guy, but mom told us how he put his ego, pride, and often his dignity aside to make a complete fool of himself just so he could see us laugh. Let me tell you, that didn’t change with age. My dad always knew how to make us laugh and always reminded us how important it is to pursue joy, love, family, and God over status, income, or any other rat race of life.

He was an inspiration to so many, but especially us. The fact that my dad was alive long enough to get married and have kids was a miracle he never stopped being grateful for. He thanked God every day. But in dad-like fashion, he didn’t thank God with words, he thanked God with action, sacrifice, and commitment. He chose a life of reaching out to the last, the lost, and the left out because he knew that’s what he was until God found him. If dad wasn’t spending his time with his girls, he was doing what he could to make sure people like him would find the same God of love and redemption he did.

Dad, we will never stop missing you and we will never stop loving you. Thank you for choosing us as your legacy. You will not be forgotten. I’m sure you’re throwing a party in paradise and forcing everyone to try your Persian food. Love you dad!

---

Armin Assadi is the co-founder of Position Intel, a GPS tracking software company, and Santosha.co, an all natural skincare company. He has lived more lives than most---from former refugee and crime boss to vocational minister in a mega church and entrepreneur to speaker and soon-to-be published author (The Power of Belief, release date: fall of 2019). He is married to the beautiful momtrepreneur, Ashlee, and father to his two very bossy girls that have him wrapped around their little fingers, Aida (3 years old) and Aviah (9 months old).

Don't Be Sorry (Guest blog by Taylor Smith)

Taylor Smith is a dear friend and I have invited her back today to write another guest blog. Her story today is guaranteed to touch your heart and I’d love to hear from you after reading her powerful words where we’re all reminded to live each day as if it were our last.     — Michelle

It was not the kind of question I was expecting as we sat there, hands sticky with drips of ice cream running down our fingers.

It was not the kind of question I’d ever asked myself,

or had someone else ask me,

let alone a 14-year-old.

It was not the kind of question I wanted to think about,

or even acknowledge,

and yet, here I was,

face-to-face with a young teenage girl, being asked a question about a reality we will all one day face.

“What would you do if you knew it was your last day on earth?”

I closed my eyes.

‘What would I do if I knew it was my last day on earth?’

I wanted to answer right away with something that would be all-encompassing of my values,

something that would be richly and epically proportioned,

something that would be wise and an example to her and her two younger sisters sitting right next to her,

but,

my mouth was like a desert.

I had nothing.

She took another bite of fudge brownie ice cream and said,

“I know what I’d do.”

I leaned in. I was curious. Something absolutely childlike and fanciful was soon to follow, I was sure.

But it wasn’t.

“I would ask for forgiveness,” she said. “I would go around and ask others for forgiveness.”

I set down my cup of melting ice cream.

This was no 14-year-old answer I’d ever heard of.

No eating cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

No meeting her favorite movie star crush.

No taking all her friends and family to Disneyland.

No. This answer was nothing childish.

“Have you ever asked for forgiveness before?” I questioned.

“Yes,” she said, taking another bite of ice cream.

“Was it easy for you?”

She put down her ice cream, too.

“No,” she said. “It’s difficult, and scary, but it’s what we’re called to do.”

Suddenly, I realized that any answer I would have given would have been a bit trivial, in comparison. Because -to be honest- my answer would have been more self-focused, more about satisfying my emotions and last-moment desires.

Her answer, “forgiveness,” was anything but selfish.

It was everything selfless, humble and sacrificial.

I owe a great deal to my honorary sister, Dative, for the question she asked me, and for the answer she gave,

for it has confronted me with something that makes most people start to squirm:

asking for forgiveness.

The reality is, because we’re human, we are hurting people all the time.

Most of the time we don’t even know it,

though sometimes we do,

and guilt may begin to rise up within us, compelling us to act.

In response to that guilt, we often say, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry” – if we were to give that phrase currency, how much value would you attach to it?

I can say I’m sorry like it’s my job.

Bump into you in the grocery store aisle, “Oops! I’m sorry!”

Accidentally spill a bit of coffee on your papers, “Oh my word. I’m so sorry!”

"I'm sorry" is worth pennies to me, passing through my hands before I even know they're gone.

Speak a little too loud at the meeting, “I am soooo sorry.”

“I’m sorry” is worth pennies to me, passing through my hands before I even know they’re gone.

But asking, “Will you forgive me?”

That weighs a whole lot more.

 It’s not a question I dole out very often,

because it comes at a great cost: my vulnerability.

“I’m sorry” is a one-way street statement. It’s a band-aid quickly patched and left to hope the wound might heal, eventually.

“Will you forgive me?” requires a dialogue. It’s the burning antiseptic, tweezers pulling gravel out of flesh, inviting the healing process to begin.

Forgiveness necessitates empathy, humility and courage.

When answering her own question, “What would you do if you knew it was your last day on earth?,” Dative didn’t say she would go around telling people “I’m sorry.” There’s a difference between saying “I’m sorry” and asking for forgiveness.

‘Don’t be sorry,’ Dative’s words seemed to tell me. ‘Be vulnerable.’

How did Dative, a 14-year-old, arrive at the conclusion that the final 24-hours of her life she would spend doing one of the most vulnerable things you could do?

If I were to venture a guess, I believe it’s what has been modeled to her from the place where she grew up, a place that has shown her how true healing, restoration and reconciliation comes from radical forgiveness – a country called Rwanda.

It has only been 23 years since the Rwandan Genocide, when nearly 1 million people were killed in 100 days. And yet, if you were to visit Rwanda today, I’d be hard pressed if you didn’t come away with the word “peace” on the forefront of your mind.

Why?

Forgiveness heals seemingly fatal wounds.

 Dative knows this.

She’s lived it.

And if she knew it was the last day of her life,

she would do the costliest thing she could think of,

because she knows it yields a priceless reward:

healing, peace, freedom.

I bet most of us could share a personal story of forgiveness.

And upon further reflection, I bet we could all think of someone whom we’ve hurt, or wronged, and know that deep down, it’s probably the right thing to ask them for forgiveness – but probably not today, or tomorrow, or ever?

Dative’s question gives us an opportunity most people will never get – to plan how we would spend the last day of our life. For, how many of us will know when it’s our last day? Or when it’s our friend’s or brother’s or mother’s last day?

I have never been more caught off guard than when my dad passed away from a heart attack in 2008. When I think about the last 24-hours of his life, while I didn’t have the opportunity to say goodbye, I did have the opportunity to practice forgiveness.

During the four years after my mom died, my dad did some amazing things with me and for me, but he also did things that left me hurt and wounded. I would be lying if I didn’t say I was burning up waiting for my dad to come ask me for forgiveness. However, I realized that during those four years, I undoubtedly did things that hurt him, too, and how I had an equal opportunity to come to him and ask for forgiveness.

So I did. I went up to my dad and said something to the effect of, “Dad, if I’ve ever done anything that made you think I love you any less, or that I didn’t desire your happiness, would you forgive me? Our relationship means far more to me than who is ‘right’ or ‘wrong.’”

How on earth my dad and I had that conversation in his last 24 hours, I have no idea. But God knew. And believe me, I haven’t forgotten it.

I don’t know when my last day on earth will be, and truth be told, neither do you.

In what I believe was a divinely-appointed conversation in an ice cream shop with my honorary little sister, Dative, I’ve been reminded that I have a choice to live each day as if it were my last – to not go to sleep at night with bitterness or guilt on my heart, should I not wake up and have the opportunity to ask one of the most meaningful, powerful and radical questions I could think to ask, “Will you forgive me?”

If I can be so bold,

don’t be sorry.

Be vulnerable.

Be humble.

Seek forgiveness.

Give forgiveness.

For you have been forgiven.

Dear Karen Batts: What I Wish I Could Have Said to You

Dear Karen,

I realize that you’re gone now---having passed away just days ago---and we’ll never be able to have this conversation. But here’s what I wish I could have said to you while you were still here.

You probably don’t remember me, but I babysat you and your brother, Alan, when you were kids. I think you were around the age of seven or eight when we first met. In fact, babysitting the two of you was one of my first jobs since I was only a few years older and we lived on the same street in Northeast Portland in the 1970’s. I can still picture you being full of life, a spark of energy wherever you went. 

One memory that stands out to me is that of meeting your mom for the first time. Because I never saw your dad around, I initially thought she was a single parent. But then she explained that your dad was in the military so he had to be gone a great deal. I only met him once or twice and know that he sacrificed greatly for our country even though he must’ve desperately wanted to be home to be with you and your brother. Knowing what I know now, I wonder if his absence made life harder for you. I imagine it did even though you didn’t talk about it, to me anyway. And even though your amazing mom held down the fort, I know that daddies make little girls feel safe and have a way of providing a solid foundation under them as they mature. 

When my family moved out of the neighborhood in 1978, we lost contact with everyone, including your family. Life seems to go that way sometimes. We all move on and make new friends and don’t necessarily keep the old. I assumed you were all grown up by now and had gone on to change the world with your effervescence and verve.

But this week, out of the blue, I felt gut punched.  

I learned that you were the homeless woman who died of hypothermia in a downtown parking garage just two weeks ago. You were the one who froze to death all alone in the middle of a Saturday afternoon during a Portland snowstorm when the temperatures were below 20 degrees. 

As I read your tragic story in the news, I sat and wept. Through my tears I wondered if you were terrified as your body shivered and slowly shut down. I wondered if you cried or if you were numb. I wondered if you felt angels gather around you to bring you comfort as you were ushered to heaven. 

I was heartbroken to hear that you struggled with an eating disorder (as have I) from the time you were young, that you suffered from mental illness starting at an early age, and that you were then diagnosed with schizophrenia in your 30’s. These realities stand in stark contrast to your earlier years when you were a high school cheerleader, had lots of friends, designed some of your own clothes, were on the Rose Festival Court (at Grant High), and graduated with honors. Clearly you were a standout, marked for greatness as one with gifts of creativity and intelligence, notwithstanding your ability to both influence and connect with people. As if that wasn’t enough, you studied pre-dentistry in college and were setting out to make a difference in the world.

But then everything inside you started falling apart.

As your family tells it, your deteriorating mental state changed everything. You couldn’t hold down a steady job, you moved around a lot, your eating disorder continued to rear its ugly head, you struggled with drugs and alcohol, you couldn’t make it in rehab, and you pushed away your mom and brother despite their attempts to help you, isolating yourself in increasing ways as time passed. I imagine that as things inside your brain intensified, the only options that made you feel safe were isolation and shutting down because everything internally was imploding while the world outside you was completely terrifying and totally overwhelming. 

I know that we can’t bring you back, but I want you to know, Karen, that even in death, your life has changed me. And not just me, but our whole city. Person after person has told me that they feel connected to your story and are looking differently at homelessness and its juxtaposition to mental illness. 

The reason? Because now these two realities have gone from being a generalized community problem to that of a woman with a name and a story. You, Karen Batts, have led us as all to feel the impact your loss in the depths of our hearts and we don’t want anyone else to walk the same devastating road as you. We want to better understand what you needed and then hold that up against what we needed to have done to have better come alongside you.

I can only wonder, had you and I stayed in contact…if you might have listened to me while sharing stories of what I remembered about you, followed with my asking you what the little girl inside you needed to know in order to believe that she was valuable and worthy. I wonder if you would’ve believed me telling you that even with your mental health struggles that you have a unique purpose and innate gifts, starting with your beautiful gift of creativity. Because I, too, love crafts and sewing, I would have tried to connect with you through art, which could’ve been a way for your deepest self to find release. That place in you needed to be known, connected with, released, and celebrated. 

I can only wonder, had you and I stayed in contact…if we could have connected over the fact that we both have had eating disorders. You would’ve then known that you weren’t alone and perhaps we could have shared our similar struggles. We could’ve talked about our real needs that underlie those destructive behaviors, and admitted that by focusing on controlling our food intake it became our way of trying to control our inner demons. And since we both spoke the secret language of eating disorders, I wonder if you'd have trusted me to share about yours. 

I can only wonder, had you and I stayed in contact…if you would have let me ask you about your dad’s death and the impact it had on you. I find myself wondering if his leaving your life permanently when you were 34 years old had any bearing on your mental and emotional decline. It seems like there may have been an intersection between those series of events that steamrolled you in the years that followed, adding to your growing instability as time went on. I would’ve asked if you struggled to find your footing after he died.

I can only wonder, had you and I stayed in contact…if you would’ve joined me in singing songs like old times, the ones we used to sing at the Good News Club that my mom held in our home. I imagine those songs would be tucked deep down inside you, accessible if you ever wanted them for comfort. I wonder if you’d recall, “Stop, and let me tell you what the Lord has done for me” or “The Lord is my Shepherd, I’ll walk with Him always; He leads by still waters, I’ll walk with Him always.” I would sing them to you as a lullaby in hopes that it would soothe your distressed mind, body, and soul. Maybe, just maybe, they would remind you of truths that might not set you free right then, but perhaps could usher in peace, even for a few minutes, and help you feel less imprisoned inside your own mind. 

I can only wonder, had you and I stayed in contact…if it would be of interest to you to know that I have a trauma history myself. Like you, I’ve had bruises and scars, mostly on the inside, from those who sought to overpower me and make me feel worthless as a result of their abuse. And then I would tell you that God has brought healing to the depths of my life and though the process to get from there to here is grueling, there is real hope for real healing. And because we all have an innate capacity to read people by looking at their eyes, I’d have let you look into mine to know that I am living proof that there can be a restored life even with a complex mental health diagnoses. I would want your heart to connect with mine as I would seek to give you some of my hope. I believe that you would be able to feel my love because love bypasses mental distress and has a miraculous way of settling into the deepest places inside us. 

I can only wonder, had you and I stayed in contact…if I would’ve also shared a profound insight that one of my sisters recently confessed to me. Though she had planned to go to Switzerland this past summer and through assisted suicide, end her life, she decided against it at the last minute and is now thankful that she’s here. She told me that real love reached into her distress and kept her alive. I can assure you that her intense pain has given me more empathy and also more hope. I would’ve wanted you to know that about me…and her.

Karen, I wish I could have told you all these things while you were here--but since I cannot--in your honor I say these things to anyone in distress who is needing to hear it today:

• You are loved and loveable. There are no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it; this is a fact, plain and simple. 

• You are valuable and worthy…always….and because you haven’t done anything to earn it, you can’t do anything to lose it. 

• You are created for a purpose and even if you don’t know what it is right now, don’t give up until you’ve discovered it…or it’s discovered you.

• Even in the darkest night, God is near you because He promises to be close to the brokenhearted and to bind up their wounds. He says that even if one of his sheep is lost, he’ll leave the other 99 sheep and look for the one; He’ll never give up on you, precious lamb. 

Dads, I trust that Karen’s story serves as a reminder that you never know when a day may be your last…or your daughter’s. 

So why not take time right now to reach out to your daughter and: 

• make a call

• pen a note

• send a text or

• write an email

• and if you need to make amends, do it today. 

Don’t let this day pass by where you forgo investing in your daughter and miss saying the things you need to say and doing the things you need to do. 

You only have today to give fathering your all; let it be one where your forever investment reaches her heart. 

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Heart Turns Yield Great Returns: An Investment Strategy for Dads of Daughters

When I launched The Abba Project in January of 2010, it came on the heels of reading a story in the New Testament that particularly struck me. It was about a dad named Zechariah who was told that his son, John, would help “turn the hearts of fathers to their children.” For some reason, the way those words were strung together jumped out at me differently than it ever had before. 

At that time, the main thing I took away was that I was being given a really amazing yet daunting assignment to help equip dads to be more intentional with their daughters. As time’s gone on, however, I’ve pondered the significance of the carefully scripted, unusually worded phrase, “turn the hearts of fathers.” 

I’ve never had anyone ask me to “turn my heart” toward them, have you? 

A much more common expression is “turn my head.” Turning our heads is so instinctive and automatic that we don’t think about it when it happens. We just do it, in response to motion, to noise, to anything that catches our attention. Turning our heart, it seems, isn’t so reflexive. It’s directed by a decision, a choice, maybe even a passion. 

For most dads, it’s far more natural to tune in and engage at the head, or cerebral, level. Turning the heart is typically more difficult for a man to do. 

Most girls I’ve known have told me they need and appreciate intellectual input from their dads. After all, it’s usually dad who helps her figure out everything from filling out a FAFSA (federal student aid form) to opening a bank account. The reality is that we need and value our dad’s rational, logical, intelligent minds to help us navigate life.

This then raises the question: Why did God talk about heart turns and not head turns?

I firmly believe that a turned heart from a dad to his daughter will do more to deposit love, confidence, value, and strength into her life than anything else he could do.

A turned head:

• implies that information is being exchanged. 

• means that something or someone has caught the attention of another as mental activity is stimulated. 

• is the seedbed of thought and deliberation, of consideration and contemplation.

• is where choice originates and decisions are birthed. 
  
  The language in the story of Luke about a turned heart is less intuitive for men and takes more work than a turned head. 

And I figure that God must have written this directive about a turned heart for a reason, which means that not only is it possible for dads to do it, but it also must be important or he wouldn’t have worded it this way. Because this language is intentional, it invites the question whether there’s a difference between a dad turning his head and turning his heart. 

A turned heart:

• implies emotion and connection. 

• can bypass thought, perhaps even words. 

• is responsive, engaged, heartfelt, and receptive. 

• communicates a depth of openness and availability as there is congruence between what the eyes say, the mouth speaks, and the heart expresses. 

• is about authentic, open, tender, honest interaction based on a foundation of unconditional love and acceptance. 

And a girl can tell if her dad has his heart turned toward her or if only his head is turned. 

Case in point: You’re watching the game. It’s your team against Notre Dame. Fourth quarter. Score is tied. She comes in crying. You tell her you’re listening. One ear toward her. One ear toward the game. One and a half eyes on the game. Half an eye on her. Bad timing. Dilemma.

If you’re serious about turning your heart, expect to be inconvenienced. 

As you head into this next week, why not set a goal to consciously raise your awareness and ask yourself every day if your heart is turned towards your girl. Use the above list that clarifies what a heart turn looks like to assess whether you’re getting close enough to see her eyes, feel her emotion, and hear her words.

I cheer you on today, Dad, and trust that your heart turns this week will outnumber your head turns. Become an expert “heart turner” and your daughter will be the beneficiary of your efforts!

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Dad, Why Are You Backing Away?

The other day I was getting a pedicure and had a unique experience (yes, toe pampering just happens to be one of those indulgences I justify under the “self care” category of my life). Now before you stop reading because you’ve decided that this doesn’t sound like a blog that speaks to men, hang in there and I promise it will.

You see, what I love most about the whole foot extravaganza thing is that it is a type of forced rest. I can kick back and relax while flipping mindlessly through at least ten or twelve magazines, trying my hardest not to think about anything that might stimulate even the slightest level of neurotransmitter activity!

On this one particular Saturday I was seated next to a woman who I’m guessing had way too much caffeine en route to her appointment. In a much-too-loud-for-normal-salon-etiquette voice she enthusiastically introduced herself to me. “Hi…I’m Samantha…what ya reading there?”

To be honest, I was a bit irritated at first because I really didn’t want to talk. It wasn’t anything personal; I simply wanted to be quiet. But it didn’t take long for me to realize that I didn’t have much choice but to join in because this woman was going to keep knocking on my door until I answered.

As often happens when meeting a stranger, we got to talking about what we both do. Of course this opened up the topic of dads and daughters. That’s when the conversation took a right turn into her heart space.

This 25-year old woman dove head first into the story of her father, the man she lost five years ago, the dad she lost much too soon. With passionate energy she expressed how much he meant to her and how he could never be replaced. It was then that she shared something a bit more vulnerable, something that struck a familiar cord because I’d just had a similar talk with a group of dads who were addressing this same topic from the other side of the solar system.

"As soon as I grew boobs our relationship changed forever. The wrestling stopped. I was 13 when it stopped and I didn't know why. I was an adult when I figured it out. It changed from 13 to 17. I felt abandoned by a man who had been there my whole life and I didn't know what I had done wrong.”

Did you hear it? Did you hear how she spent years blaming herself for her dad’s withdrawal from her?

We girls do that. In all of our relationships, frankly. Psychologists call this “self referencing.” It’s very different from narcissism even though at first glance it could possibly look the same. This isn’t about thinking that we’re the center of the universe. It’s that we think if you get to the center of our universe then you’ll discover that we’re not worth the pursuit. We often struggle to be okay within ourselves and think it’s a matter of time before you’ll come to the same conclusion.

Here’s what I want to say to those of you who are fathers: I know you don’t always know what to do or where to hug when your daughter’s body starts changing. It’s like your little princess somehow turns into a young maiden overnight and rather than potentially pressing into “the wrong places” by accident, it seems easier to back away. Sometimes you would rather do nothing than do it wrong.

But you can’t do that. As a token female I want to say that when we’re hugging someone, our bodies don’t feel any different in that region than any other part. To say it bluntly, when I’m hugging my dad or a guy friend, my breasts aren’t an erogenous zone.

Listen to what Ken, a former dad in The Abba Project told another dad who was navigating this with one of his daughters:

“You know, if you back off she’s going to internalize it as something being wrong with her.”

Well said, my friend.

Then Mike weighed in:

“I used to wrestle with my daughter and then I stopped for the exact same reason. But since doing this group and seeing how important it is to connect with her, I’ve started wrestling with her again. Guess what I’ve noticed? She’s hugging me more!”

Dad, please don’t pull away when your daughter hits adolescence. She needs you more during those years than ever.

The reality is that when you step back physically you are leaving her open prey for guys to swoop in and fill the void. And since this post is a bit more candid than others I’ve written, I might as well keep it going by saying that the best contraceptive your daughter will ever have is that of you showing her healthy physical affection as she grows older, demonstrating what safe touch feels like in the context of honored boundaries. This will go farther than any lecture you could ever give on boys or safe sex.

Samantha really did end up being a delightful woman once I was open to interacting. And not only did she give me permission to share her story but she wanted me to be sure and let fathers know how much they affect their daughters when they are in that prepubescent stage.

“I know its awkward but she's hasn't noticed yet. Don't be the first one to pull away. You'll regret it forever. Luckily my dad and I had enough time to repair our relationship. I was 20 when he passed. He went from diagnosis to passing in just eight weeks.”

Hearing Samantha’s story highlights a very central truth that I hope every dad hears: you are leaving a lasting legacy in your daughter’s life and she is worth every ounce of investment because she’s your forever deposit.

Show your daughter what real, safe, healthy affection feels like---two strong and loving arms of her dad wrapped around her, communicating with demonstrative action that she is valuable and worthy.

Have you hugged your daughter today?

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