It was a Sunday afternoon, about a decade ago, when my oldest son, Mateo, was three. I remember it vividly—not because it was a picture-perfect moment, but because it wasn’t.
I was sprawled on my bed, barely conscious, as a movie played on the TV. Mateo lay beside me, his head resting on my chest, eagerly watching, probably hoping his dad might come alive and join in.
But I was too tired. Exhausted, really. I was there, but not there.
Physically present, yes. Emotionally? Absolutely not.
Looking back, I know why. My job, volunteering commitments, and other “responsibilities” were getting the most and best of me.
I didn’t know it at the time, but I was chasing validation—through applause, approval, and achievement—driven by the deep, unspoken question: Do I have what it takes?
God disrupted me during that season. He lovingly exposed my motives and invited me to walk with Him on a hidden path—a better way.
While the commitments I had taken on were good in themselves, the need fueling them was misplaced.
Through mentors and friends, He revealed how I was going everywhere—work, church, social events—searching for answers to the deepest questions of my soul.
I was seeking from others what only He could provide: love, belonging, and validation as a true man.
It wasn’t an overnight transformation, but slowly, God began guiding me on how to bring my questions—the needs of my masculine heart—to Him.
He showed me that I did have what it takes—not because of what I accomplished, but because He chose me (and you)—because I belong to Him.
As I grew in receiving my identity and validation from God rather than my performance, something shifted.
Suddenly, I had more to give—to Mateo, to my wife, to my whole family.
I began practicing the art of being fully present. Not just showing up physically, but emotionally and mentally too.
Not just “quality time,” but quantity time.
And over time, this practice changed everything. It transformed me, and it transformed the atmosphere of my home.
I found joy in playing, in listening, in simply being with my family.
And they, in turn, received more and more of the gift they had always longed for—the best and most of me.
As we think about the people God has entrusted to us—our wives, our kids, our families—particularly during this Christmas season, consider this:
The best gift you can give them isn’t something you can buy or wrap. It’s the gift of you.
Your full presence. Your laughter. Your love. Your playfulness.
Yes, you might pick up some shiny presents along the way—and that’s great. But what those you love long for most isn’t the latest gadget or an expensive trip.
They long for you. They long for your heart, your attention, your delight in them. They long for the joy that only you can bring.
This Christmas season, let the words of the psalmist Mariah (Mariah Carey, that is) remind you of what those you love truly want:
““I don’t want a lot for Christmas
There is just one thing I need
I don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
All I want for Christmas is you.””
Yes, I know she didn’t mean it that way, but since you’ll likely hear that song a thousand times over the next couple of weeks, my hope is that every time you do, God may remind you:
The people you love don’t want a perfect dad or husband.
They don’t want you to check every box or climb every mountain.
They just want you.
Fully present.
Fully alive.
Fully theirs.
So this Christmas season—and beyond—let’s give the ones we love the best gift we can: the gift of ourselves. Let’s be present not just in body, but in spirit.
Let’s choose joy, laughter, and love, and let those flow freely in our homes.
And into 2025, let’s keep showing up—not as men striving for validation, but as men who know we have what it takes because our Father has said so.
Merry Christmas, brothers. Give them you.
—
Pablo