I used to start my son's day by yelling at him. The clock would hit 7:15 AM, and he’d still be in his pajamas, moving like molasses. I could feel the heat rising in my chest. The pressure of running late took over, and I’d snap. I’d yell about breakfast. I’d yell about him not being dressed. And then I’d spend the whole drive to school feeling like garbage because I sent my boy into his day with my anger. A couple of months ago, on that drive to school, I realized something had to change. I told him, "It is my responsibility to help hold you capable and support you, not just get mad when you struggle." That night, instead of lecturing him, we sat down and made a checklist together. Now, he uses that checklist every single morning. I don't have to be the "yelling dad" anymore. I just guide him through the steps he helped create. I learned that peace in the home doesn't happen by accident. It happens when we lead. My son didn't need my frustration; he needed a tool. When I shifted from demanding results to supporting the process, the friction disappeared. Being a Peacemaker Dad isn't about being soft. It's about building the structure your family needs to succeed so you can stop fighting and start connecting. 1. Where is there constant friction in your house because you haven't provided a clear tool or system? 2. What is one simple checklist you can build with your child tonight to solve a recurring problem? Your action today: Pick the most stressful time of your day (morning, bedtime, etc.). Sit down with your family and write out the 3-5 steps needed to win that moment.

I knew he was only three, but looking at that empty tree, I still felt like I had failed him. A couple of years back, I didn't have my stuff together. I was distracted by school and work, telling myself I’d get to the holidays "later." Suddenly, it was Christmas Eve, and I was in a panic. I remember obsessively refreshing my Amazon app every five minutes, praying the status would change from "Delayed" to "Delivered." My chest was tight, and I was snapping at everyone because I was so stressed. The package didn't show. My son woke up to only a couple of presents under the tree. He was too young to really know the difference, but I knew. I had let my lack of planning steal the joy from the morning. I made a promise to myself right then: Never again. I learned that being a provider isn't just about the paycheck. It's about the planning. When we don't look ahead, we force our families to live in our chaos. Real leadership is anticipating the needs of your tribe before they even know they have them. It’s doing the work now so they can have the peace later. That is the standard we hold for each other in this brotherhood. We don't just hope for the best; we prepare for it. 1. What are you putting off right now that is going to turn into a crisis by December 24th? 2. What is one specific thing you can buy or schedule today to secure peace for your family later? Your action today: Open your calendar. Map out the travel, the parties, and the gift deadlines. Buy the "big" gift today so you aren't refreshing a tracking app on Christmas Eve.

read before bed or in the early morning. my take away tonight. Don't you know that you yourselves are Gods temple and God dwells in your midst. 1 Corinthians 3:16

I was deep in the grind, answering messages from dads who needed support and trying to build this business. I had convinced myself that what I was doing was "critical." I felt the pressure to get just one more post up. Then my son walked in. He looked at me and said, "Dad, come play with me." My thumb hovered over the screen. I started to tell him, "Just a minute, buddy, I have to finish this." I felt that pull—the addiction to the work, the need to feel productive. But then I looked at him. Really looked at him. I realized that the post could wait. The algorithm doesn't care about me. But this boy? He needs me right now. I only get this age once. I put the phone face down. We got on the floor. We dumped out the Legos and the Matchbox cars and we just played. We built a city and crashed the cars, and we had an amazing time. I realized something powerful on that floor. I do all this work to help other dads show up for their families. But I almost missed showing up for mine. You can't automate presence. You have to choose it. We work hard to build a future for our kids, but we can't let the building get in the way of the being. The real legacy isn't the business you build; it's the memories you make on the floor. 1. What "important task" are you letting steal time from your family today? 2. If your son or daughter wrote a story about you today, would the main character be you, or your phone? Your action today: Put the phone in a drawer. Set a timer for 20 minutes. Get on the floor and play blocks, throw a ball, or just listen. Be all there.

My brother and I aren't very close. For a long time, I let that eat at me. I told myself, "If he wanted to talk to me, he’d pick up the phone." I was keeping a scorecard. And because the score wasn't even, I let the silence win. But I realized that if I wanted a relationship, I had to be the one to build it. So, I stopped waiting. I started calling. And here is the truth: When I call, we have great talks. We laugh. We catch up. The connection is actually there, it just needs a spark. I used to be mad that I had to be the spark. Now, I’m just grateful that I have a brother who answers. I learned that the blessing isn't about who dials the number. The blessing is that I have a brother to call. This Thanksgiving, I’m not looking at what’s "fair." I’m looking at the opportunity I have to connect. The phone works both ways, but my heart only needs to work one way: towards him. I’m grateful for the chance to be the one who reaches out. 1. Who are you keeping score with instead of connecting with? 2. Can you be grateful just for the fact that they are still there to answer the phone? Your action today: Don't wait for them. Be the one who initiates. Call that person—your brother, your dad, your friend—and just be thankful you can hear their voice.