My dad once told me not to call him “Father.”
He said, “You only have one Father, and that’s your Heavenly Father.”
That sentiment stayed with me—not just as a child, but even more so as an adult.
My dad is what I’d call very fatherly. If you know, you know. There’s a quiet steadiness about him. A seriousness that carries weight. There are times I need my dad—and times when I need my Father, working through my dad.
One of those times was when I was diagnosed with cancer.
I remember it clearly. I had just received the news, and everything in my world was suddenly spinning. I needed something to hold on to. I needed someone. So, without thinking, I did something I hadn’t done in years.
I crawled up into my dad’s lap like I was a little girl again. (Never mind that I was 42.)
I looked at him and said, “Will you pray to our Father for me?”
He nodded and said, “Of course I will.”
Then he added something unexpected:
“I left you a book with a passage that talks about the meaning of prayer.”
The book was My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers. A well-worn copy. The page he referenced was dated August 28. And the passage? Well, it changed everything:
“We don’t pray for things to change.
We pray so we change—
and then things change.”
That was it. That message—from my Father, through my dad—completely altered how I saw prayer, and maybe even how I saw healing.
I stopped begging for my circumstances to shift and started letting prayer shift me.
It wasn’t instant. It wasn’t dramatic. But it was real. A slow, steady awakening to the idea that sometimes healing doesn’t come to us.
It comes through us.
And that’s the kind of wisdom I hold close this Father’s Day.
I know I’m incredibly fortunate. Not everyone has a father who showed up with steady love, quiet faith, and a deep belief in transformation. Not everyone had a dad who handed them a book and said, “Here’s what you need to understand.”
So today, I’m honoring both of them:
My dad, who lived his faith in simple, profound ways.
And my Father, who works in the unseen—sometimes through words on a page, sometimes through people we love, always through the quiet stirrings of the soul.
Fatherhood, in its highest form, isn’t about control or rules.
It’s about love. Steadiness. Wisdom passed down in gentle, life-shaping ways.
And whether you’re remembering a dad, missing a dad, being a dad, or redefining what that word means—
I hope you’ll take a moment to pause today.
To give thanks for the guidance that holds you.
To listen for the wisdom that’s been quietly waiting for you to hear it.
And to remember that healing often begins not with answers, but with surrender.
Thank you, Dad.
Thank you, Father.
For reminding me that the true power of prayer isn’t about getting what we want—
It’s about becoming who we’re meant to be.
About the Author
Leslie Nance is a Holistic Cancer Coach, Certified Holistic Nutritionist, speaker, and author. She helps women heal with clarity, courage, and soul. Writing and teaching about mindset, wellness, and living a life that feels as good on the inside as it looks on the outside.
