Family Day Without My Family

So Monday was Family Day here in Ontario. It’s a newer holiday here, meant to celebrate time together. I wasn’t planning on writing about it. But as the day got closer, I realized I couldn’t not write about it.

My kids had four days off school. The Friday before was a PA day, so it was a long weekend for them. My ex asked if I wanted to see them. Of course I did. I always do.

The problem is I don’t have money right now. I don’t have stable housing. I don’t have a place that feels secure and settled for them. But I do know how to find free things. So I said yes.

There’s a complication, though. I can’t see the younger two unless one of the older two is there. I don’t love that arrangement. But I also know I don’t have the money or stability right now to fight legal battles. I’m not even divorced yet. My life is still too unstable.

So I try to work with what I have.

Lately, though, it’s been nearly impossible to see them. I haven’t seen my kids since before Christmas. I saw my 13-year-old briefly a few weeks ago because she needed money for something at school. Amazingly, when money was involved, a way was found.

Sorry. That’s me venting.

I tried to make arrangements for Monday. No luck. Thirteen didn’t want to leave the house. That one hurt. It’s hard not to take that personally. Hard not to feel like I’ve failed somewhere along the way.

Sunday didn’t help. Sundays can be heavy for me. I work late Saturday nights and wake up early. I almost skipped breakfast because money is tight, but there was a deal on the Tim Hortons app I couldn’t pass up. In hindsight, I’m glad I didn’t skip it. I would have been hungry until at least 7:00 PM when I could eat a small free meal at work.

Sundays are also church days. Families sit together. Kids run around. I sit alone. Sometimes seeing kids the age of mine is enough to make my chest tighten. And ten days earlier there had been an issue involving my oldest that was still weighing on me. Things had improved, but I hadn’t fully bounced back.

I did something difficult that Sunday, though. I spoke to the mother of the other girl involved in the situation with my oldest. My associate pastor had advised me to wait a week before reaching out. I did. And after the service, I walked up to her.

It wasn’t the most comfortable conversation. But it was freeing. I needed her to know I wasn’t angry at her or her daughter. We talked. It was a real blessing, and it ended well. It felt like obedience. It felt like growth.

Later that day I met someone who had some items that might fit my youngest daughter. We met at a local restaurant. For a moment, I forgot the weight I’d been carrying. I stepped outside my comfort zone and trusted that God had me.

He did.

My life didn’t magically change when I left that restaurant. But for that hour, I was calm. I was present. I was okay. That matters.

Then Monday came.

Family Day.

I didn’t work until 8:00 PM. It was only a short shift. I hoped maybe I’d see my kids.

Nothing came together.

Being separated from them is hard. I was separated for nearly three years before. But this feels worse. It feels worse because they don’t live far away. Getting there isn’t the issue.

The issue is what I don’t have.

I don’t have stable housing. I don’t have extra money. I don’t have a space that feels like “Dad’s place.”

And I often ask myself: If I can’t provide housing, money, or stability, what kind of father am I? Do I even deserve my kids?

Most people would say, “At least you’re getting time and a half.” I’m not. My employer found a way around that. So Family Day was just another shift. Different name. Same pay. Same reality.

On a day meant to celebrate family, I went to work alone.

Later that night, I was reminded of something David wrote in Psalm 27:10 (NLT):

“Even if my father and mother abandon me, the Lord will hold me close.”

I’m not abandoned. My kids aren’t abandoning me. Life is just complicated right now.

But when I start questioning whether I deserve to be a father, I have to remember something deeper. I am still a son. And my worth is not measured by square footage, bank balances, or legal paperwork. I am held together by a God who holds me close.

Family Day came and went. I worked. I prayed. I waited.

I didn’t get the reunion I hoped for. I didn’t suddenly become the father I want to be. My housing situation didn’t change overnight.

But I didn’t collapse either.

Some days growth doesn’t look like victory. It just looks like staying steady when everything in you wants to spiral.

I’m still here. Still trying. Still choosing not to quit.

And maybe, for now, that’s enough.

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