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Stefanie MacWilliams @StefMacWilliams
, 18 tweets, 4 min read Read on Twitter
It truly is a tragedy to witness how much our society has denigrated fathers and fatherhood.

My dad is my best friend and I am so blessed to be his daughter.

My dad is an amazing dad for so many reasons. He loves me. He teaches me with so much wisdom. He always believes in me and wants me to achieve what I set out to strive for. All the normal great stuff about a dad.
Over the past couple of years, culminating in the past month or so, I’ve come to realize that his greatest strengths are ones I didn’t appreciate as much. Or, in some cases, felt annoyed by.
My dad is the head of our household. The thing is, he acts like it, even when the rest of our household (including me in the past) thinks such an idea is sexist and ridiculous.
My dad is a constant presence. A constant pillar of faith, hard work, provision, protection, and love. It is my dad who holds together the chaos whenever our family finds itself in tumult.
It is my dad who always forgives, who is always there to help us, even when we’ve totally spat on his kindness even an hour before.
I am quick to judge and get frustrated with my mother and sisters for their more liberal views of gender relations, marriage, and family.
But can I really say I’ve been the best daughter I can be? Certainly not. Not even close.

Until recently, I lied to my father about something important for a full year. I hid something I should have been honest about.
He forgave me for what I hid. He didn’t question me, didn’t pry, didn’t get angry. In fact, he was happy. Happy I was more honest with him. Happy I was moving forward in my life in a positive direction.
I know, I’m 25 years old. It’s not as though I have to tell my dad anything, right?

But even though I’m 25 years old, I still found myself sobbing on the phone to him asking how much more my heart could take, if I could survive and what I was dealing with.
Because that’s what a great father is. A constant. Strength that is not always obvious, but strength that can be quiet and patient and wait. Strength that can endure ridicule even from those it seeks to protect from any harm or pain.
My dad was there for me teaching me about politics when I was 12. He was there for me when I was a baby up 20 times a night. He was there for me when I needed to cry at 25, when I thought I had this whole heart thing sorted out. And he’ will be there for me in the future.
When I was little, I remember I could see my dad from my bedroom stoking the wood stove at night. He’d be up praying and reading the Bible while he made sure the fire never went out in the middle of the night.
Did I ever thank him for this? Did my sisters? Did my mom? Probably not. But he never required thanks. He just did it. And I just took that moment of comfort, not understanding that it represented him as my dad: the constant head of our home.
Today in the #Catholic Church we thank Saint Joseph, the “foster” father of Jesus Christ, husband of Our Lady.

My dad in a way reminds me of him. The strength of quiet obedience to God in protecting those he loves, no matter how little acknowledgement he gets. 🙏🏻#StJosephsDay
By the way, let me make something extremely clear: I LOVE my mother so much. This thread is not intended to be negative to her, only honest about some struggles I have in our family dynamic. She’ll have a thread soon ;)
I’m so excited to show dad all of the kind responses to this thread. Thank you guys so much. I think your words will make his day :)
Seriously I just texted him that he’s twitter famous now. Let’s see if he actually reads his texts for once. 😂 Thank you guys. Seriously. The encouragement means so much.
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