It's true - we've started a blog called 'In the dad house'.
The idea for this blog is to strengthen and extend the reach of our voice in the realm of fatherhood. Our hope is that it will be read by fathers and father figures as well as Who Let The Dads Out? group leaders, and that it will contribute to our vision to turn the hearts of fathers to their children and the hearts of children to their fathers to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.
We're looking for contributing writers - if you've got a story to tell, send over your ideas to our Comms officer at florence.jones@brf.org.uk
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What will my children inherit?
I have been thinking about what kind of legacy my father has left me and, in comparison, what kind of legacy I would like to leave for my own children – focusing on four areas: an obje
First person plural
For the most part, golf is a particularly singular game - one man's personal battle through adversity to deliver a small dimpled ball into what, at times, feels like a ridiculously tiny hole.
The curse I share with Andre Agassi's father
I've been reading the autobiography of the tennis player Andre Agassi, and I turned the corner of page 165 because there was something written there that I wanted to go back to, one paragraph that
My car is a snob
I hate to say it, but my car is a snob. It's a horrible thing to have to say about your own beloved car, but it's true; there's no getting away from it.
Coming to terms with being a loser
I bent down and placed my golf ball on the tee before I took up my stance and swung with everything I had.
The Christmas I'll never be allowed to forget
My wife, Su, tells me that we need to start preparing for Christmas now, but I'm not convinced.
Please read this if you are a spy (and a dad)
Mark Colvin was in his 20s before he found out the truth about his father. Growing up, Colvin's dad had led the family around the world in his job as a British diplomat.
An imposter in the bedroom
I saw the imposter as soon as I walked into the bedroom— sat there, bold as brass, on the end of our bed. I froze and simply stared while I tried to make sense of what I was seeing.