A Time You Failed — and What You Did Next

It was bedtime. Everyone was tired.

And I lost my patience — not with a yell, but with cold silence.

I withdrew. Shut down emotionally.

And he knew it.

He felt the distance immediately.

That night, I sat in my room ashamed.

Not because of what I did — but because of what I didn’t.

I didn’t pursue. I didn’t repair.

Failure in fatherhood isn’t always loud.

Sometimes, it’s subtle: a missed opportunity to model grace.

A moment where your strength could’ve built connection, but didn’t.

The next morning, I sat him down and said something simple:

“I messed up. I should’ve stayed present. Will you forgive me?”

He said yes, almost too quickly.

But I knew in that moment — I had planted a seed.

Failure isn’t final.

But it becomes fruitful when you turn it into a lesson.

And when you invite your kids to see you grow — they learn how to grow too.