Don’t Assume They Know: The Things I Don’t Want Left Unsaid

Don’t assume they know. I learned that the hard way on November 8, 1983. I was twelve years old, and for some reason, I woke up around 4:30 that morning while my dad was getting ready for work. So I sat down and ate breakfast with him. I had never done that before, and I had no idea it would be the last time.

A few hours later, while I sat in school, my father passed away. He was only 55 years old. Just like that, an ordinary morning became one I would carry with me for the rest of my life.

I’ve written about that day in The Day I Lost My Father. Still, what I keep coming back to isn’t just the loss. It’s how normal everything seemed that morning. There was no warning and no reason to think anything was different. It was just a boy at the kitchen table with his dad before the sun came up.

Today, I’d give almost anything for one more breakfast with him. Another conversation, another question, or just one more chance to tell him what he meant to me.

More than forty years later, I understand something about that morning. You don’t always recognize the importance of a moment until that moment is all you have left.

Don’t Assume They Know: The Lie We Tell Ourselves

There are things we assume the people we love already know. We figure they know how much we love them, how proud we are, and how much they’ve changed our lives. After all, we’ve been there for them, haven’t we? So we tell ourselves, “They know.”

But knowing you’re loved and hearing someone say it are two different things. Sometimes, the words we think aren’t necessary are the very words someone needs to hear. I don’t want to reach the end of my life with a heart full of things I never took the time to say.

Proverbs 3:27 (NLT) puts it plainly: “Do not withhold good from those who deserve it when it’s in your power to help them.”

That last part stops me. When it’s in your power. We have opportunities today that may not be there tomorrow, yet we act like there will always be another chance.

At twelve years old, I learned that there isn’t always another chance.

I’m 55 Now, and Time Looks Different

This year, I turned 55. That’s the same age my father was when he passed away, and reaching it has changed the way I look at life. Over the years, I’ve dealt with heart problems, procedures, stents, and more reminders of how fragile life is than I care to count.

God has carried me through every one of those moments, and I’m thankful. But those experiences have also forced me to ask an uncomfortable question about the time He’s given me.

I can spend my entire life asking God for more time without ever considering what I’m doing with the time He’s already given me. Am I using it well? Or am I filling it with more worry, more busyness, and more promises to get around to things tomorrow?

James 4:14 reminds us how brief and uncertain life really is. Psalm 90:12 (NLT) offers a prayer I need to pray more often: “Teach us to realize the brevity of life, so that we may grow in wisdom.”

I don’t believe God wants us living in fear of death. But I do believe He wants us to value the days we have. And that starts with noticing the people standing right in front of us.

Annita, I Don’t Want You to Find Out From a Blog Post

Annita is my wife, my partner, and one of the greatest blessings God has ever given me. She’s also the one who sees the parts of me the rest of the world doesn’t.

She sees the stress I carry home and the days I’m tired or distracted. Some evenings, I’m right beside her, but my mind is still chewing on things I should have handed over to God hours ago.

Not long ago, I let the pressure of everything going on in my life get the best of me. I snapped at Annita, even though she hadn’t done anything to deserve it. She was simply the person closest to me when my frustration came out.

The next morning, I spent time praying about how I’d handled it. I knew I was wrong, and I told her so more than once. That experience reminded me of something I need to remember more often. The people who love us most shouldn’t have to carry the frustration we bring home from somewhere else.

Annita has stood beside me through health scares, difficult seasons, and the everyday challenges of building a life together. I know I haven’t always made that easy for her.

More Than Words on a Page

Here’s what convicts me most. I can write a thousand words about patience, love, forgiveness, and grace. But if the woman beside me isn’t experiencing those things from me, I’m not living what I write. I’m just writing about it.

And yes, I see the irony of putting this in a blog post. But these aren’t just words for everyone else. I’ve already sat down with Annita and told her how I feel, face-to-face. That conversation mattered more than anything I could write here. I never want to assume she knows how much she means to me.

Annita, I love you, and I’m thankful God brought you into my life. I’m grateful for your faith, your heart, your patience, and everything you do for our family. You deserve more than words on a page, and I want my actions to reflect that love every day.

To My Children: Writing It Isn’t Enough

Cameron, Brittany, Brandon, Courtney, and McKenzie, being your dad has been one of the greatest blessings and responsibilities of my life. It also hasn’t meant getting everything right.

There were times I was too busy, too distracted, or too focused on things that weren’t nearly as important as I thought. Looking back, I should have listened more and lectured less. I was quick to give advice when I should have slowed down and paid attention.

Sometimes, your kids don’t need another lesson. They just need their dad to listen.

I can’t go back and change those moments. I can learn from them and make better use of the time we still have together.

So I don’t want to assume you know how I feel. I love you, and I’m proud of you. Not because of what you’ve accomplished or what anyone else thinks, but because you’re my children.

Back in May, I wrote What I Need You to Know: A Letter to My Children. I admitted then that I’m not good at saying these things out loud, so I wrote them down. Writing it was a start, but a letter isn’t the same as hearing it from your dad.

I don’t want to leave behind evidence that I loved my family. I want you to experience that love while I’m still here.

Courtney, You May Never Fully Understand

Courtney, there’s something I want you to know about the role God has allowed you to play in my life.

Years ago, when you were young, God used your encouragement to help bring me back to church. You probably didn’t realize what it meant at the time. It mattered more than you may ever know.

That encouragement became part of my journey back to a stronger relationship with God. It shaped the direction my life would take, including the reason I’m writing Faith for Real Life today.

When I wrote She Has No Idea God Used Her, I admitted that I’d never told you what you did for me. But that’s changed. I’ve since had that conversation with you, and I’m thankful I did. Something I’d carried in my heart for sixteen years was finally spoken out loud.

As parents, we spend so much time trying to teach our children. Sometimes, we miss how much God is teaching us through them. And Courtney, whether you realized it or not, God used you to teach your dad something that changed his life.

To My Grandchildren: Papa Wants You to Know Two Things

Maren, Owen, Emma, Grayson, Bristol, Mila, and Evelyn, being your Papa is one of the greatest gifts God has ever given me. I love the laughter, the hugs, the silly conversations, and the little traditions we’ve made together.

Somehow, one squishy cube from McKenzie turned into a whole collection and became a family joke. Emma calls me “Papa the NeeDoh Master.” Grayson notices the second anything gets moved, and Maren tells people, “Papa has all the squishies.” I wrote about those moments in Papa Has All the Squishies, and they still make me smile.

First, I want you to know that you were never an interruption in my life. You’re one of the best parts of it.

Someday, when you’re grown, I hope you remember moments like those. It probably won’t be the expensive gifts or big occasions that stand out. I hope it’s the laughter, the conversations, and the simple moments of just being together.

Second, and more importantly, I want you to know Jesus.

Following Him doesn’t mean you’ll live a perfect life. Your Papa certainly hasn’t. You’ll make mistakes, face hard days, and maybe go through seasons when your faith feels weak.

When those days come, remember that God’s grace is greater than your failures. You can turn to Him no matter what you’re facing.

I also hope you’ll remember that Papa didn’t just talk about Jesus. My prayer is that you’ll remember a man who genuinely tried to follow Him, even when he struggled.

I won’t leave you a perfect example because I’m not a perfect man. But I hope I can leave you something far more important.

Not perfect faith. Real faith.

Sometimes the Hardest Words Aren’t “I Love You”

This is where it gets uncomfortable, because not everything we leave unsaid is about love or appreciation.

Sometimes, the words we need to say are “I’m sorry.” Other times, they’re “I was wrong” or “I forgive you.”

I’ve written plenty about forgiveness, but I’ve struggled with it, too. I know what it’s like to carry anger longer than I should, replay old conversations, and rehearse what I wish I’d said.

Slowly, I’m learning that being right isn’t worth the damage we can cause trying to prove it. Winning an argument doesn’t mean we handled the situation the way God wanted us to.

In Matthew 5:23–24, Jesus teaches that if you’re bringing your gift to the altar and remember someone has something against you, you should leave the gift there. First, go and make things right. Then return and offer it.

Think about that for a moment. Jesus placed great importance on making things right with another person, even before offering a gift in worship.

That doesn’t mean every broken relationship can be repaired. It doesn’t mean ignoring healthy boundaries, pretending nothing happened, or allowing someone to continue hurting you.

It does mean examining our own hearts. Is there someone we’ve hurt who deserves an apology? Has pride kept us from admitting we were wrong? Perhaps there’s a conversation God keeps nudging us toward that we continue avoiding.

Pride can keep us silent. So can fear. Unfortunately, silence has a way of turning into regret.

Don’t Wait Until You’re Standing at a Funeral

I’ve been to enough funerals to notice something about the way we remember people. We hear beautiful stories about the person who passed away. People talk about their kindness, the laughter they shared, and the difference they made in the lives of others.

Those words bring real comfort to grieving families. There’s nothing wrong with honoring someone we love, but I’ve often wondered how many of those beautiful things the person actually heard while they were alive.

Too often, we assume they know, so we wait. Then we write tributes, share pictures, and talk about how much we’d give for one more chance to tell them ourselves.

I understand that feeling because I’ve lived with it since November 8, 1983. There are still things I wish I could tell my dad and questions I wish I could ask him.

That’s why I don’t want the people I love wondering how I felt about them. I want to tell them now, thank them now, and make things right while I still can.

Because the conversation you keep putting off may one day become the one you wish you’d had.

Encouragement Should Start at Home

Ephesians 4:29 teaches us to use our words to build others up. 1 Thessalonians 5:11 tells us to encourage one another.

I’ve read those passages for years. Lately, though, they’ve made me look more closely at how I speak to the people around me, especially those closest to me.

It’s easy to encourage someone on Facebook or share an uplifting Bible verse. But what happens when we close the laptop and put down the phone?

Am I speaking to Annita with the same kindness I encourage others to show? Do I make enough time for my children? Do my grandchildren know how much joy they bring me?

What about the people who’ve carried me through difficult times? Have I thanked them, or do I simply assume they already know how grateful I am?

Those questions matter because our faith should be visible in our closest relationships. It shouldn’t exist only in what we publish, share, or tell others they should do.

Faith isn’t just knowing what the Bible says. It’s letting God’s Word change how we treat the people closest to us.

What I’ve Started Doing Differently

I’ve already started having some of these conversations with the people I love. But I don’t want them to be something I do once and then forget. I want showing appreciation, offering encouragement, and speaking from my heart to become a regular part of how I live.

If there’s one thing God keeps teaching me, it’s that knowing what I should do isn’t the same as actually doing it. So here’s what I’m committing to.

I’m going to keep telling Annita what she means to me, not just on anniversaries or special occasions. My children will continue hearing that I love them and that I’m proud of them, even when there’s no particular reason to bring it up.

I also want my grandchildren to know how much I enjoy being their Papa. They shouldn’t have to guess whether spending time with them brings me joy.

There are people who’ve helped me along the way, and I want to thank them. When I owe someone an apology, I want to have the humility to offer it without making excuses.

Will I get all of this right every day? Probably not. I’m still a work in progress, just like everyone else. Even so, that doesn’t mean I can’t keep trying.

And so can you.

Maybe there’s someone you’ve been meaning to call or visit. Perhaps there’s a conversation you’ve avoided because you don’t know what to say. Or maybe someone encouraged you years ago and has no idea how much it mattered.

Reach out to that person. Make the call, write the letter, or sit down and have the conversation. It doesn’t have to be polished or impressive. It just has to come from your heart.

Before the Words Become Memories

I still think about that breakfast with my father. A twelve-year-old boy sat at the kitchen table with his dad at 4:30 in the morning, and neither of us knew what that day would bring.

To him, it may have been just another morning before work. To me, it became a memory I’ve carried for more than forty years.

Today, I’m 55 years old. I’m a husband, a father, and a grandfather. I’m still learning, still making mistakes, and still trying to become the man God wants me to be.

But I’ve realized something important about the life God has given me. I have an opportunity today that I didn’t have after November 8, 1983. I still have time to tell the people I love what they mean to me.

If you’re reading this, chances are you do, too.

We can’t go back and recover every missed conversation. We can’t change the words we should have spoken years ago. But we can choose what we do with the opportunities in front of us.

Don’t let pride keep you from apologizing. Never let busyness rob you of time with the people you love. Most importantly, don’t assume they know what you’ve never taken the time to say.

We aren’t promised another breakfast, another conversation, or another morning.

Say what matters while the people who matter are still here to hear it.

A Prayer

Heavenly Father,

Thank You for the people You’ve placed in my life. Thank You for my wife, my children, my grandchildren, my family, and the friends who’ve walked beside me through the years.

Forgive me for the times I’ve taken those relationships for granted. Please forgive me when I’ve let pride, stress, anger, or busyness keep me from showing the love I should have shown.

Give me the courage to say what needs to be said. Help me apologize when I’m wrong, forgive when I’ve been hurt, and recognize when someone needs encouragement.

Remind me that time is a gift, not a promise. Help me make good use of the days You’ve given me.

Most of all, Father, help me live the faith I write about. I’m far from perfect, but I want my life to reflect Your love, grace, and goodness.

I don’t know how many days I have left, Lord. Still, I know every one of them is a blessing from You. Help me use them well.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Something to Think About

If today were your last chance to tell someone what they meant to you, who would you call? What would you say, and what’s stopping you from saying it now?

If God placed someone on your heart while you were reading this, don’t ignore it. Don’t assume there will always be another opportunity.

Don’t assume they know. Tell them while you still can.

God bless.