Fathers Who Love Their Families

Dear Little Sister,
You have an amazing father. I've only known him for about six months, but I've already seen both through his actions and the effect he's had on Konrie that he has carefully and consistently taught his children to love God, love their family, and love others. I can see what a positive influence he's had over you all, and I can tell how much he loves you. He works hard to provide for the family, and he makes sure to spend enough quality time with each of you, teaching you both principles of life as well as fun hobbies and skills. He's given me wise and inspiring counsel on multiple occasions, especially when I asked for his blessing to marry Konrie. You're very blessed to have him.
     Being a father is a sacred calling, one that should be taken seriously and with a spirit of humility. The best fathers I know have been the ones who work, teach, and rely on the Lord. But beyond these essential qualities, I think that one is above all others: love.
     Love is the greatest, most sincere reason to do anything. It's supposed to be our motivation to keep the commandments (see John 14:15), and it's the reason God sent His Son to save us (see John 3:16). It's the reason true fathers are more than just breadwinners and DNA donors. It's how their children know they can trust them, how sons know how to treat their future wives, and how daughters know how to expect their husbands to treat them.
     One of the greatest fathers that I never knew was my great-grandpa, Bernard Matli. Grandpa Matli passed away about two years before I was born, but I always loved hearing stories about him—his band, his farm, and anything else my mom could remember. I grew up playing games with Grandma Matli, and I always felt so close with her. After many years battling illness and decay of old age, she finally passed away while I was on my mission. It wasn't a surprise, but I was still sad—until I remembered that she and Grandpa could now be together. From what I've heard, there could never be a married couple as enamored as they were.

     My favorite story about Grandpa Matli covers a period of many years. He and his family ran a farm, and by the time they came in to eat dinner every night, he and the boys were exhausted—and hungry. Grandma Matli knew that her husband would be the last to come in because he always stayed behind to make sure everything was in order and ready to leave until the following day. She wanted to make sure that he got plenty of food, so she always set aside the chicken breast, the largest piece, for him before the hard-working boys came in and devoured their meal. They apparently ate a lot of chicken on this farm, which sounds like a good deal—my Grandma's fried chicken was legendary—so this happened often, time after time, year after year, my Grandma showing such love and devotion by making sure that her husband was taken care of. Years later, when the kids had gone, Grandma and Grandpa Matli continued eating chicken. Only this time, Grandpa finally served himself, and he picked out a drumstick. Grandma was shocked and said, "But dear, I thought you preferred the breast!" He replied, roughly, "No, honey, I've always liked the dark meat best. But I was so grateful for your thoughtfulness that I never said anything." Over the years, they had both served each other and done all they could to show their love for each other, and their children saw it.
     My parents are my perfect example of marital unity. Anyone who says they've never argued with their spouse is lying, but anyone who can honestly say they've never heard their parents argue had good parents. I never heard my parents argue. Sure, they fought, and they disagreed, and I could sometimes tell when they were about to or when they had done so recently, but arguments always happened out of the presence of us kids. My parents always made their decisions together and never, ever undermined the other in front of anyone else. When either spoke to us, it was always in "we," "us," and "our." Everything they did was as a team.
     You've met my parents, obviously, and you may have picked up on some things. For instance, my dad likes to talk. I get that from him. But I don't think many people realize how much talking my mom does behind the scenes. She's a singer and performer, but she doesn't always like speaking—I'm not sure why, but she doesn't tend to speak up in public. But in our home, she and my dad talked constantly, and when he speaks in public, as he likes to do, he speaks for both of them—because they've already discussed it together. When I get my mom on her own, she's as smart and quick as they come, but she prefers to step out of the spotlight in public. But my dad speaks up, making sure that my mom's view is represented.
     The loyalty they have for each other has never been in low supply. Once, my dad was driving a bunch of men from Church to a stake function of some kind, I think. Unfortunately, when men get together, they sometimes complain to each other about their wives, trying to outdo each other with how silly or inconsiderate or incompetent their wife was that one time. But this time, fed up with this kind of conversation, my dad pulled the car over to the side of the road, turned around to face the men, and said, "If you have problems with your wives, go home and talk to them about it. But I don't want to hear another word about it in this car." He turned back around and kept driving and what continued as a relatively silent ride. My dad doesn't tolerate disloyalty to spouse, and I try to follow his example.
     In addition to teaching us how to be good husbands, he taught his children how to be good fathers. I was too young for this, but when he was a private investigator, he often took my siblings on surveillance with him. Don't worry, it wasn't anything dangerous—just people falsifying injuries to get Workers' Comp and stuff. But it could take him on long road trips, and he always made sure that the kids got their own dad time. The stories and memories they made are heartwarming and hilarious, often involving a child needing to pee, and even though I couldn't go with him, I was always so grateful for a father who cared that much about his children that he wanted them to be a part of his life.

     Years later, when I was about fifteen, my family moved from Arizona back to California, which was the sixth time I had moved. I've moved eleven times now (not counting the mission), and it never really got any easier. I hated leaving friends and familiar places, especially when we seemed to leave just when I had grown to love the place I lived. People always ask what it was like to move so much. Well, I imagine it was the same for me as it is for you to have only moved once—normal.
     I learned a lot of lessons from my father during these times, but none more so than the one that took me years to fully appreciate—the one he never said, and maybe that's why the lesson is so much more powerful to me.
     This time, moving from Arizona, my dad had needed to find a new job, and most of his contacts were in California. That was by far the easiest way for him to get work, so he got a job pretty quickly, which was a huge blessing. The only consolation was that we got to move back to Carlsbad, into the same ward that I had lived in for seven years as a child.
     When you've moved eleven times, seven years is a long time to stay in one place. I don't consider any one house home, but Carlsbad is the city I'm from.
     We got to be around many of our old friends, and it was so much easier to adapt. We didn't have to deal with the stress of feeling left out or learning a whole new game in a whole new place. At the time, I just thought it was the coolest thing ever. Looking back, though, I realize what a sacrifice my dad made.
     His new job was in Cerritos, which is about an hour and a half away from Carlsbad. He had to drive three hours every day in L.A. traffic just to get to work and back—three hours that he wasn't getting paid, that he was alone, and that he was stuck in gridlock. To avoid the worst jams, he woke up at 4:30 a.m. every day and got to work by 7:00, beating the morning crowd and leaving early enough to avoid the evening ones. He had to readjust his internal clock so that he could go to bed at least by 9:00 every night, meaning that he never stayed up late again while he was working.
     For about four years, he woke up before the sun and drove a total of three hours every single day, Monday through Friday. Over 3,100 hours driving back and forth, back and forth—all so we could be with our friends. All because he felt awful taking us away from people we loved so many times, not because he wanted to but because he had to so he could take care of us. As soon as he had the chance, he made one of the biggest sacrifices I can imagine just to make the transition easier for us.
     And he never said a word.
     He never told us we needed to be more grateful, never demanded recognition, never complained. He just did it. It wasn't until I was on my mission that I realized how much he must have hated that, how much of a sacrifice he was making—just for us.

     That's the kind of father I want to be, the kind of husband I'm striving to become. I'm so grateful to the wonderful fathers in my life, especially my own, who have taught me the kind of man my family needs me to be.
     I know you're not super into dating right now, and I'm not trying to convince you to feel otherwise. But whenever that happens and you're looking for a guy, look for one like that. Look for one like your dad and like mine. Look for one who will put you first and treat you like a princess. Look for one who will do anything and everything in his power to make you happy and to take care of you and the children you'll have together.
     Fathers aren't just for making money, driving us to dances, and telling horrible yet somehow funny jokes. If we watch, if we listen, we'll see what we could be if we love the Lord, love our neighbor, and love our families.

"By the way you love her mother, you will teach your daughter about tenderness, loyalty, respect, compassion, and devotion. She will learn from your example what to expect from young men and what qualities to seek in a future spouse. You can show your daughter by the way you love and honor your wife that she should never settle for less. Your example will teach your daughter to value womanhood. You are showing her that she is a daughter of our Heavenly Father, who loves her. Love her mother so much that your marriage is celestial. A temple marriage for time and all eternity is worthy of your greatest efforts and highest priority."

- Elaine S. Dalton, Former Young Women General President (2008 - 2013)





Konrie's Korner:

My dear sister, I hope you will forgive me if I dedicate today's post to our father and what he has done for me. (also please show it to him)

I love calling my father "Daddy." I just reminds me of all the fun times we have had together as well as all the things my daddy lovingly taught me. When I was little, I would race my dad's truck to the corner to wave goodbye as he drove to work. As a family, we would every once in a while go to a park and play soccer. My dad was always so tricky to get past, especially because he used to be too big to push away from the ball ;) We still play together, but now that we are all older, the game is a little different because Dad and soccer coaches taught all the sisters and brother to be great competitors. T.V. shows like NCIS, Monk, and Scorpion as well as action/adventure movies are my favorites because that was a way my dad and I would spend quality time together in the evening.

One of my favorite times to be with my dad is during car rides when I get a one-on-one chance to ask him anything and seek his wisdom. One conversation that really helped me was what kind of guy he thought I should marry. He said I needed someone that would serve me and take care of me because I would often forget myself as I served others. His answer showed me how well he knew me, and I used it to know that Richie was the one.

I have been so blessed to have a father who lovingly teaches by example. I always loved when my dad would take me to work with him. Being a landscape contractor, he would put me on a labor-intensive task that would cause me to sweat and use all the (few) muscles I had. I always give my dad the credit when people see how easily I can help carry half a couch, because my dad would often ask one of my many sisters or me to help him load and unload his heavy tools into his truck.

My daddy is my hero and I am so grateful for his life lessons that helped me be who I am today :) I love you, Daddy.