Sun, Sand, and Discipleship: Four Moves to Own Your Family’s Summer

The last bell rings, a backpack sails into the back seat, and your minivan suddenly feels like a launch pad. “Summer starts now, Dad—what’s the plan?” one of your kids shouts over the celebratory chaos.

For a brief second you picture camps, lessons, road trips, and grandma’s peach cobbler all colliding on a giant wall calendar. Then another voice—calmer, older—echoes Psalm 90:12: “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” The verse reframes your checklist: summer isn’t just a season to survive; it’s a God-given stretch of time to steward.

Why numbered days matter

You have roughly 940 Saturdays with a child from birth to high-school graduation; this summer might account for a dozen of them. Jesus used unhurried meals and walks to disciple His friends—free hours are fertile ground for heart talks. Picture a memory you create today rippling into your grandchild’s bedtime story decades from now. Intentional fathering means putting dates on the calendar now—not “sometime soon.”

Four summer moves every dad can make

1. Craft a “One-on-One Quest.” Pick a simple rite of passage—a campout at age eight, a weekend road trip at thirteen—and start (or repeat) it with one child this summer.
2. Schedule Sabbath Spaces. Block screen-free, plan-free afternoons for hammock reading, Lego cities, or backyard theology chats. Creativity—and the Holy Spirit—love margin.
3. Teach a life skill. Mow in straight lines, grill a burger without charring it, balance a budget, change a bicycle tire. Responsibility wrapped in relationship sticks.
4. Serve together. Volunteer at VBS, mow a widow’s yard, pack food boxes. Shared mission turns “my faith” into “our family’s culture.”

Remember: Summers are finite—faith is forever

You may get eighteen full summers, then scattered weeks once college begins. If you split parenting time, each warm day is doubly precious. So plan, pray, and play on purpose. When September’s routines return, you’ll have more than photos; you’ll hold stories of God’s goodness told through ice-cream drips, campfire smoke, and whispered prayers under the stars.

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